w 


CXethsemane 


y  Jerusalem 
Nazareth 


EHENI 


"WHATXWOULD  JESUS   DO? 


CHARLE5  M  SHELDON 


^  PRINCETON,  N.  J.  4f^ 


Presented    by "  Vr^K  .  ^xij\0\  \  \3C7\rTIX)\AVC(^  ^^- 


Division 
Section 


% 


(I 


'{/.J 


//-/ 


In  His  Steps 

"What  Would  Jesus  Do?" 


CHARLES  M.    SHELDON 


AUTHOR  OF   "THE   CRUCIFIXION   OF   PHILIP    STRONG,' 
"ROBERT  HARDY'S  SEVEN  DAYS,"  ETC. 


CHICAGO 

Advance  Publishing  Co. 

215  MADISON  STREET 

1897 


Copyright,  1897 

BY 

CHARLES  M.  SHELDON. 
All  rights  reserved. 


Typography  by  John  A.  Ulrich,  Chicago. 


Prksbwork  by  C.  O.  Owen  it  Co. 


PREFACE 

The  sermon  story,  In  His  Steps,  or  "What  Would  Jesus 
Do?"  was  first  written  in  the  winter  ot  1896,  and  read  by  the 
author,  a  chapter  at  a  time,  to  his  Sunday  evening  congrega- 
tion in  the  Central  Congregational  Church,  Topeka,  Kansas. 
It  was  then  printed  as  a  serial  in  The  Advance  (Chicago), 
and  its  reception  by  the  readers  of  that  paper  was  such  that 
the  publishers  of  The  Advance  made  arrangements  for  its 
appearance  in  book  form.  It  was  their  desire,  in  which  the 
author  heartily  joined,  that  the  story  might  reach  as  many 
readers  as  possible,  hence  succeeding  editions  of  paper-cov- 
ered volumes  at  a  price  within  the  reach  of  nearly  all 
readers. 

The  story  has  been  warmly  and  thoughtfully  welcomed 
by  Endeavor  societies,  temperance  organizations,  and  Y.  M. 
C.  A.  's.  It  is  the  earnest  prayer  of  the  author  that  the  book 
may  go  its  way  with  a  great  blessing  to  the  churches  for  the 
quickening  of  Christian  discipleship,  and  the  hastening  of  the 
Master's  kingdom  on  earth. 

Charles  M.  Sheldon. 

Topeka,  Kansas,  November,  1897. 


IN  HIS  STEPS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

''For  hereunto  were  ye  called;  because  Christ  also  suffered  for 
you,  leaving  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  follow  his  steps." 

It  was  Friday  morning  and  the  Rev.  Henry  Maxwell  was 
trying  to  finish  his  Sunday  morning  sermon.  He  had  been 
interrupted  several  times  and  was  growing  nervous  as  the 
morning  wore  away  and  the  sermon  grew  very  slowly  to- 
wards a  satisfactory  finish. 

"Mary,"  he  called  to  his  wife,  as  he  went  up  stairs  after 
the  last  interruption,  "if  any  one  comes  after  this,  I  wish 
you  would  say  that  I  am  very  busy  and  cannot  come  down 
unless  it  is  something  very  important." 

"Yes,  Henry.  But  I  am  going  over  to  visit  the  Kinder- 
garten and  j^ou  will  have  the  house  all  to  yourself." 

The  minister  went  up  into  his  study  and  shut  the  door. 
In  a  few  minutes  he  heard  his  wife  go  out. 

He  settled  himself  at  his  desk  with  a  sigh  of  relief  and 
began  to  write.    His  text  was  from  First  Peter,  ii:  21. 

"For  hereunto  were  ye  called;  because  Christ  also  suf- 
fered for  3'OU,  leaving  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  fol- 
low his  steps." 

He  had  emphasized  in  the  first  part  of  his  sermon  the 
Atonement  as  a  personal  sacrifice,  calling  attention  to  the 
fact  of  Jesus'  suffering  in  various  ways,  in  his  life  as  well 
as  in  his  death.    He  had  gone  on  to  emphasize  the  Atone- 


} 


6  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

ment  from  the  side  of  example,  giving  illustrations  from 
the  life  and  teaching  of  Jesus,  to  show  how  faith  in  the 
Christ  helped  to  save  men  because  of  the  pattern  or  charac- 
ter he  displayed  for  their  imitation.  He  was  now  on  the 
third  and  last  point,  the  necessity  of  following  Jesus  in  his 
sacrifice  and  example. 

He  had  just  put  down,  "3:  Steps;  What  are  they?"  And 
was  about  to  enumerate  them  in  logical  order  when  the  bell 
rang  sharply.  It  was  one  of  those  clocli-work  bells  and 
always  went  off  as  a  clock  might  go  if  it  tried  to  strike 
twelve  all  at  once. 

Henry  Maxwell  sat  at  his  desk  and  frowned  a  little.  He 
made  no  movement  to  answer  the  bell.  Very  soon  it  rang 
again.  Then  he  rose  and  vralked  over  to  one  of  his  Avin- 
dows  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  front  door. 

A  man  was  standing  on  the  steps.  He  was  a  young  man 
very  shabbily  dressed. 

"Looks  lilvc  a  tramp,"  said  the  minister.  "I  suppose  I'll 
have  to  go  down,  and—" 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  he  went  down  stairs 
and  opened  the  front  door. 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  as  the  two  men  stood  facing 
each  other;  then  the  shabby-looking  young  man  said, 

"I'm  out  of  a  job,  sir,  and  thought  maybe  you  might  put 
me  in  the  way  of  getting  something." 

"I  don't  know  of  anything.  Jobs  are  scarce,"  replied  tlie 
minister  beginning  to  shut  the  door  slowly. 

"I  didn't  know  but  you  might  perhaps  be  able  to  give  me 
a  line  to  the  city  railway  or  superintendent  of  the  shops  or 
something,"  continued  the  young  man,  shifting  his  fado-iJ 
hat  from  one  hand  to  the  other  nervously. 

"It  would  be  of  no  use.    You  will  have  to  excuse  me.    I 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  7 

am  very  busy  this  morning.  I  liope  you  will  find  some- 
thing. Sorry  I  can't  give  you  something  to  do  here.  But  I 
keep  only  a  horse  and  a  cow  and  do  the  worli  myself." 

The  Rev.  Henry  Maxwell  closed  the  door  and  heard  the 
man  walk  down  the  steps.  As  he  went  up  into  his  study  he 
saw  from  his  hall  window  that  the  man  was  going  slowly 
down  the  street,  still  holding  his  hat  between  his  hands. 
There  was  something  in  the  figure  so  dejected,  homeless 
and  forsaken,  that  the  minister  hesitated  a  moment  as  he 
stood  looking  at  it.  Then  he  turned  to  his  desk,  and  with 
a  sigh  began  the  writing  where  he  had  left  off. 

He  had  no  more  interruptions  and  when  his  wife  came  in 
two  hours  later,  the  sermon  was  finished,  the  loose  leaves 
gathered  up  and  neatly  tied  together  and  laid  on  his  Bible, 
all  ready  for  the  Sunday  morning  service. 

"A  queer  thing  happened  at  the  Kindergarten  this  morn- 
ing, Henry,"  said  his  wife  while  they  were  eating  dinner. 
"'You  know  I  went  over  with  Mrs.  Brown  to  visit  the 
school,  and  just  after  the  games,  while  the  children  were 
at  the  tables,  the  door  opened  and  a  young  man  came  in, 
holding  a  dirty  hat  in  both  hands.  He  sat  down  near  the 
door  and  never  said  a  word.  Only  looked  at  the  children. 
He  was  evidently  a  tramp,  and  Miss  Wren  and  her  assist- 
ant, Miss  Kyle,  were  a  little  frightened  at  first,  but  he  sat 
there  very  quietly  and  after  a  few  minutes  he  w^ent  out." 

"Perhaps  he  was  tired  and  wanted  to  rest  somewhere. 
The  same  man  called  here,  I  think.  Did  you  say  he  looked 
lilvc  a  tramp?" 

"Yes,  very  dusty,  shabby  and  generally  tramp-like.  Not 
more  than  thirty  or  thirty-three  years  old,  I  should  say." 

"The  same  man."  said  the  Rev.  Henry  Maxwell  thought- 
fully. 


8  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"Did  you  finish  your  sermon,  Henry?"  his  wife  asked 
after  a  pause. 

"Yes,  all  done.  It  has  been  a  very  busy  week  with  me. 
The  two  sermons  cost  me  a  good  deal  of  labor." 

'They  will  be  appreciated  by  a  large  audience  to-mor- 
row, [  hope,"  replied  his  wife  smilling.  "What  are  you 
going  to  preach  about  in  the  morning?" 

"Following  Christ.  I  take  up  the  Atonement  under  the 
heads  of  Sacrifice  and  Example,  and  then  show  the  steps 
needed  to  follow  his  sacrifice  and  example. 

"I  am  sure  it  is  a  good  sermon.  I  hope  it  won't  rain  Sun- 
day.   We  have  had  so  many  rainy  days  lately." 

"Yes,  the  audiences  have  been  quite  small  for  some  time. 
People  will  not  come  out  to  church  in  a  storm."  The  Rev. 
Henry  Maxwell  sighed  as  he  said  it.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  careful,  laborious  efforts  he  had  made  in  preparing  ser- 
mons for  large  audiences  that  failed  to  appear. 

But  Sunday  morning  dawned  on  the  town  of  Raymond 
one  of  those  perfect  days  that  sometimes  come  after  long 
periods  of  wind  and  rain  and  mud.  The  air  was  clear  and 
bracing,  the  sky  was  free  from  all  threatening  signs,  and 
every  one  in  Henry  Maxwell's  parish  prepared  to  go  to 
church.  When  the  service  opened  at  eleven  o'clock,  the 
large  building  was  filled  with  an  audience  of  the  best 
llressed,  most  comfortable  looking  people  in  Raymond. 

The  First  Church  of  Raymond  believed  in  having  the 
best  music  that  money  could  buy  and  its  quartette  choir  this 
morning  was  a  great  source  of  pleasure  to  the  congregation. 
The  anthem  was  inspiring.  All  the  music  was  in  keeping 
with  the  subject  of  the  sermon.  And  the  anthem  was  an 
elaborate  adaptation  to  the  most  modern  music,  of  the 
hymn, 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  9 

"Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
All  to  leave  and  follow  thee." 

Just  before  the  sermon,  the  soprano  sang  a  solo,  the  well 
known  hymn, 

"Where  He  leads  me  I  will  follow, 

I'll  go  with  Him,  with  Him  all  the  way." 

Rachel  Winslow  looked  very  beautiful  that  morning  as 
she  stood  up  behind  the  screen  of  carved  oak  which  was 
significantly  marked  with  the  emblems  of  the  cross  and  the 
crown.  Her  voice  was  even  more  beautiful  than  her  face, 
and  that  meant  a  great  deal.  There  was  a  general  rustle  of 
expectatiou  over  the  audience  as  she  rose.  Henry  Maxwell 
settled  himself  contentedly  behind  the  pulpit.  Rachel  Wins- 
loAv's  singing  always  helped  him.  He  generally  arranged 
for  a  song  before  the  sermon.  It  made  possible  a  certain 
inspiration  of  feeling  that  he  knew  made  his  delivery  more 
impressive. 

People  said  to  themselves  they  had  never  heard  such 
singing  even  in  the  First  Church.  It  is  certain  that  if  it  had 
not  been  a  church  service,  her  solo  would  have  been  vigor- 
ously applauded.  It  even  seemed  to  Henry  Maxwell  when 
she  sat  down  that  something  like  an  attempted  clapping  of 
hands  or  a  striking  of  feet  on  the  floor  swept  through  the 
church.  He  was  startled  by  it.  As  he  rose,  however,  and 
laid  his  sermon  on  the  open  Bible,  he  said  to  himself  he  had 
been  deceived.  Of  course  it  could  not  occur.  In  a  few 
moments  he  was  absorbed  in  his  sermon  and  everything 
else  was  forgotten  in  the  pleasure  of  the  delivery. 

No  one  had  ever  accused  Henry  Maxwell  of  being  a  dull 
preacher.  On  the  contrary  he  had  often  been  charged  with 
being  sensational.  Not  in  what  he  said  so  much  as  in  his 
way  of  saying  it.    But  the  First  Church  people  liked  that. 


10  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

It  gave  their  preacher  and  their  parish  a  pleasant  distinc- 
tion that  was  agreeable. 

It  was  also  true  that  the  pastor  of  the  First  Church  loved 
to  preach.  He  seldom  exchanged.  He  was  eager  to  be  in 
his  own  pulpit  when  Sunday  came.  There  was  an  exhil- 
erating  half -hour  for  him  as  he  stood  facing  a  church  full 
of  people  and  knew  that  he  had  a  hearing.  He  was  pecu- 
liarly sensitive  to  variations  in  the  attendance.  He  never 
preached  well  before  a  small  audience.  The  weather  also 
affected  him  decidedly.  He  was  at  his  best  before  just  such 
an  audience  as  faced  him  now,  on  just  such  a  morning.  He 
felt  a  glow  of  satisfaction  as  he  went  on.  The  church  was 
the  first  in  the  city.  It  had  the  best  choir.  It  had  a  mem- 
bership composed  of  the  leading  people,  representatives  of 
the  wealth,  society  and  intelligence  of  Raymond.  He  was 
going  abroad  on  a  three  months'  vacation  in  the  summer, 
and  the  circumstances  of  his  pastorate,  his  influence  and 
his  position  as  pastor  of  the  first  church  in  the  city- 
It  is  not  certain  that  the  Kev.  Henry  Maxwell  knew  just 
how  he  could  carry  on  all  that  thought  in  connection  witli 
His  sermon,  but  as  he  drew  near  the  end  of  it  he  knew  that 
he  had  at  some  point  in  his  delivery  had  all  these  feelings. 
They  had  entered  into  the  very  substance  of  his  thought, 
"  it  might  have  been  all  in  a  few  seconds  of  time;  but  he  had 
been  conscious  of  defining  his  position  and  his  emotions  as 
well  as  if  he  had  held  a  soliloquy,  and  his  delivery  partook 
of  the  thrill  of  deep  personal  satisfaction. 

The  sermon  was  interesting.  It  was  full  of  striking  sen- 
tences. Thej^  would  have  commanded  attention  printed. 
Spoken  with  the  passion  of  a  dramatic  utterance  that  had 
the  good  taste  never  to  offend  with  a  suspicion  of  ranting 
or  declamation,  they  were  very  effective.  If  the  Rev.  Henry 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  11 

Maxwell  that  morniDg  felt  satisfied  with  the  conditions  of 
his  pastorate,  the  parish  of  First  Church  also  had  a  similar 
feeling  as  it  congratulated  itself  on  the  presence  in  the  pul- 
pit of  this  scholarly,  refined,  somewhat  striiiing  face  and 
figure,  preaching  with  such  animation  and  freedom  from  all 
vulgar,  nois5%  or  disagj'eeable  mannerism. 

Suddenly,  into  the  midst  of  this  perfect  accord  and  con- 
cord between  preacher  and  audience,  there  came  a  very 
remarkable  interruption.  It  would  be  difficult  to  indicate 
the  extent  of  the  shock  which  this  interruption  measured. 
It  was  so  unexpected,  so  entirely  contrary  to  any  thought 
of  any  person  present  that  it  offered  no  room  for  argument, 
or,  for  the  time  being,  of  resistance. 

The  sermon  had  come  to  a  close.  The  Rev.  Henry  Max- 
well had  turned  the  half  of  the  big  Bible  over  upon  his 
manuscript  and  was  about  to  sit  down,  as  the  quartette  pre- 
pared to  rise  and  sing  the  closing  selection, 

"All  for  Jesus,  All  for  Jesus, 

All  my  being's  ransomed  powers," 

when  the  entire  congregation  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a 
man's  voice.  It  came  from  the  rear  of  the  church,  from  one 
of  the  seats  under  the  gallery.  The  next  moment  the  figure 
of  a  man  came  out  of  the  shadow  there  and  walked  down 
the  middle  aisle. 

Before  the  startled  congregation  realized  what  was  being- 
done,  the  man  had  reached  the  open  space  in  front  of  the 
puJpit  and  had  turned  about,  facing  the  people. 

"I've  been  wondering  since  I  came  in  here—"  they  were 
the  words  he  used  under  the  gallery,  and  he  repeated  them, 
*'if  it  would  be  just  the  thing  to  say  a  word  at  the  close  of 
this  service.  I'm  not  drunk  and  I'm  not  crazy,  and  I'm  per- 
fectly harmless;  but  if  I  die,  as  there  is  every  likelihood  I 


13  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

shall  in  a  few  days,  I  waut  the  sattsfactiou  of  thinking  that 
I  said  my  say  in  a  place  like  this,  before  just  this  sort  of  a 
orowd." 

Henry  Maxwell  had  not  taken  his  seat  and  he  now 
remained  standing,  leaning  on  his  pulpit,  looking  down  at 
the  stranger.  It  was  the  man  who  had  come  to  his  house  Fri- 
day morning,  the  same  dusty,  worn,  shabby-looking  young 
man.  He  held  his  faded  hat  in  his  two  hands.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  favorite  gesture.  He  had  not  been  shaved  and  his 
hair  was  rough  and  tangled.  It  was  doubtful  if  any  one 
like  this  had  ever  confronted  the  First  Church  within  the 
sanctuary.  It  was  tolerably  familiar  with  this  sort  of 
humanity  out  on  the  street,  around  the  Railroad  shops, 
wandering  up  and  down  the  avenue,  but  it  had  never 
dreamed  of  such  an  incident  as  this  so  near. 

There  was  nothing  offensive  in  the  man's  manner  or 
tone.  He  was  not  excited  and  he  spoke  in  a  low  but  dis- 
tinct voice.  Henry  Maxwell  was  conscious,  even  as  he 
stood  there  smitten  into  dumb  astonishment  at  the  event, 
that  somehow  the  man's  action  reminded  him  of  a  person 
he  had  once  seen  walking  and  talking  in  his  sleep. 

No  one  in  the  church  made  any  motion  to  stop  the 
stranger  or  in  any  way  interrupt  him.  Perhaps  the  first 
shock  of  his  sudden  appearance  deepened  into  genuine  per- 
plexity concerning  what  was  best  to  do.  However  that  may 
be,  he  went  on  as  if  he  had  no  thought  of  interruption  and  no 
thought  of  the  unusual  element  he  had  introduced  into  the 
decorum  of  the  First  Church  service.  And  all  the  while  he 
was  speaking,  Henry  Maxwell  leaned  over  the  pulpit,  his 
face  growing  more  white  and  sad  every  moment.  But  he 
made  no  movement  to  stop  him  and  the  people  sat  smitten 
into  breathless  silence.      One  other  face,  that  of  Rachel 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  13 

Winslow,  from  the  choir  seats,  stared  white  and  intent 
down  at  the  shabby  figure  with  the  faded  hat.  Her  face 
was  striliing  at  any  time.  Under  the  pressm'e  of  the  pres- 
ent unheard-of  incident,it  was  as  personally  distinct  as  If 
it  had  been  framed  in  fire. 

"I'm  not  an  ordinary  tramp,  though  I  don't  l^now  of  any 
teaching  of  Jesus  that  malies  one  liind  of  a  tramp  less 
worth  saving  than  another.  Do  you?"  He  put  the  question 
as  naturally  as  if  the  whole  congregation  had  been  a  small 
private  Bible  class.  He  paused  just  a  moment  and  coughed 
painfully.    Then  he  went  on. 

"I  lost  my  job  ten  months  ago.  I  am  a  printer  by  trade. 
The  new  linotype  machines  are  beautiful  specimens  of 
invention,  but  I  know  six  men  who  have  Ivilled  themselves 
inside  of  the  year  just  on  account  of  those  machines.  Of 
course  I  don't  blame  the  newspapers  for  getting  the 
machines.  Meanwhile,  what  can  a  man  do?  I  know  I 
never  learned  but  the  one  trade  and  that's  all  I  can  do.  I've 
tramped  all  over  the  country  trying  to  find  something. 
There  are  a  good  many  others  like  me.  I'm  not  complain- 
ing, am  I?  Just  stating  facts.  But  I  was  wondering,  as  I 
sat  there  under  the  gallery,  if  what  you  call  following  Jesus 
is  the  same  thing  as  what  he  taught.  What  did  he  mean 
when  he  said,  'Follow  me?'  The  minister  said,"  here  the 
man  turned  about  and  looked  up  at  the  pulpit,  "that  it 
was  necessary  for  the  disciple  of  Jesus  to  follow  his  steps, 
and  he  said  the  steps  were,  obedience,  faith,  love,  and  imi- 
tation. But  I  did  not  hear  him  tell  just  what  he  meant  that 
to  mean,  especially  the  last  step.  What  do  Christians  mean 
by  following  the  steps  of  Jesus?  I've  tramped  through  this 
city  for  three  days  trying  to  find  a  job  and  in  all  that  time 
I've  not  had  a  word  of  sympathy  or  comfort  except  from 


14  IN  HIS  STEPS 

your  minister  here,  who  said  he  was  sorry  for  me  and  hopeil 
I  would  find  a  job  somewhere.  I  suppose  it  is  because  you 
get  so  imposed  on  by  the  professional  tramp  that  you  have 
lost  your  interest  in  the  other  sort.  I'm  not  blaming  any- 
body, am  I?  Just  stating  facts?  Of  course  I  understand 
you  can't  all  go  out  of  your  way  to  hunt  up  jobs  for  people 
like  me.  I'm  not  asli-ing  you  to,  but  what  I  feel  puzzled 
about  is,  what  is  meant  by  following  Jesus?  Do  you  mean 
that  you  are  suffering  and  denying  yourselves  and  trying 
to  save  lost  suffering  humanity  just  as  I  understand  Jesus 
did?  What  do  you  mean  by  it?  I  see  the  ragged  edge  of 
things  a  good  deal.  I  understand  there  are  more  than  five 
hundred  men  in  this  city  in  my  case.  Most  of  them  have 
families.  My  wife  died  four  months  ago.  I'm  glad  she  is 
out  of  trouble.  My  little  girl  is  staying  with  a  printer's 
family  until  I  find  a  job.  Somehow  I  get  puzzled  when  I 
see  so  many  Christians  living  in  luxury  and  singing,  'Jesus, 
I  my  cross  have  taken,  all  to  leave  and  follow  thee,'  and 
remember  how  my  wife  died  in  a  tenement  in  New  York 
cliy,  gasping  for  air  and  asking  God  to  take  the  little  girl 
too.  Of  course  I  don't  expect  you  people  can  prevent  every 
one  from  dying  of  starvation,  lack  of  proper  nourishment 
and  tenement  air,  but  what  does  following  Jesus  mean?  1 
understand  that  Christian  people  own  a  good  many  of  the 
tenements.  A  member  of  a  church  was  the  owner  of  the 
one  where  my  wife  died,  and  I  have  wondered  if  following 
Jesus  all  the  way  was  true  in  his  case.  I  heard  some  peo- 
ple singing  at  a  church  prayer  meeting  the  other  night, 

'All  for  Jesus,  all  for  Jesus; 
'  All  my  being's  ransomed  powers; 
All  my  thoughts  and  all  my  doings, 
All  my  days  and  all  my  hours;' 

aod  I  kept  wondering  as  I  sat  on  the  steps  outside  just 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  15 

what  they  meant  by  it.  It  seems  to  me  there's  an  awful 
lot  of  trouble  in  the  world  that  somehow  wouldn't  exist  if 
all  the  people  who  sing  such  songs  went  and  lived  them  out. 
I  suppose  I  don't  understand.  But  what  would  Jesus  do? 
Is  that  what  you  mean  by  following  his  steps?  It  seems 
to  me  sometimes  as  if  the  people  in  the  city  churches  had 
good  clothes  and  nice  houses  to  live  in,  and  money  to  spend 
for  luxuries,  and  could  go  away  on  summer  vacations  and 
all  that,  while  the  people  outside  of  the  churches,  thousands 
of  them,  I  mean,  die  in  tenements  and  wallc  the  streets  for 
jobs,  and  never  have  a  piano  or  a  picture  in  the  house,  and 
grow  up  in  misery  and  drunkenness  and  sin—"  the  man 
gave  a  queer  lurch  over  in  the  direction  of  the  communion 
table  and  laid  one  grimy  hand  on  it.  His  hat  fell  upon  the 
carpet  at  his  feet.  A  stir  went  through  the  congregation. 
Dr.  West  half  rose  from  his  feet,  but  as  yet  the  silence  was 
unbrolvcn  by  any  voice  or  movement  worth  mention- 
ing In  the  audience.  The  man  passed  his  other  hand  across 
his  eyes,  and  then,  without  any  warning,  fell  heavily  for- 
ward on  his  face,  full  length,  up  the  aisle. 

Henry  Maxwell  spolie,  "We  will  consider  the  service  dis- 
missed." He  was  down  the  pulpit  stairs  and  kneeling  by 
the  prostrate  form  before  any  one  else.  The  audience 
instantly  rose  and  the  aisle  was  crowded.  Dr.  West  pro- 
nounced the  man  alive.  He  had  fainted  away.  "Some 
heart  trouble,"  the  doctor  also  muttered  as  he  helped  carry 
him  into  the  pastor's  study. 

Henry  Maxwell  and  a  group  of  his  cliurch  members 
remained  some  time  in  the  study.  The  man  lay  on  the 
couch  there  and  breathed  heavily.  When  the  question  of  what 
to  do  with  him  came  up,  the  minister  insisted  upon  taking 
him  to  his  house.    He  lived  near  by  and  had  an  extra  room. 


16  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Bachel  Wiuslow  said,  "Mother  lias  no  company  at  present. 
I  am  sure  we  \^'oiilcl  be  glad  to  give  him  a  place  with  us." 
She  looked  strangely  agitated.  No  one  noticed  it  particu- 
larly. They  were  all  excited  over  the  strange  event,  the 
strangest  that  First  Chm'ch  people  could  remember.  But 
the  minister  insisted  on  taking  charge  of  the  man  and  when 
a  carriage  came,  the  unconscious  but  living  form  was  car- 
ried to  his  house  and  w^ith  the  entrance  of  that  humanity 
into  the  minister's  spare  room  a  new  chapter  in  Henry 
Maxwell's  life  began,  and  yet  no  one,  himself  least  of  all, 
dreamed  of  the  remarkable  change  it  was  destined  to  make 
in  all  his  after  definition  of  Christian  discipleship. 

The  event  created  a  great  sensation  in  the  First  Church 
parish.  People  talked  of  nothing  else  for  a  week.  It  was 
the  general  impression  that  the  man  had  wandered  into  the 
church  in  a  condition  of  mental  disturbance  caused  by  his 
troubles,  and  that  all  the  time  he  was  talking  he  was  in  a 
strange  delirium  of  fever  and  really  ignorant  of  his  sur- 
roundings. That  was  the  most  charitable  construction  to 
put  upon  his  action;  it  was  the  general  agreement  also  that 
there  was  a  singular  absence  of  anything  bitter  or  com- 
plaining in  what  the  man  had  said.  He  had  throughout 
spoken  in  a  mild  apologetic  tone,  almost  as  if  he  were  one 
of  the  congregation  seeking  for  light  on  a  very  difficult  sub- 
iect. 

The  third  day  after  his  removal  to  the  minister's  house 
there  was  a  marked  change  in  his  condition.  The  doctor 
i^poke  of  it  and  offered  no  hope.  Saturday  morning  he  still 
lingered,  although  he  had  rapidly  failed  as  the  week  drew 
near  to  its  close.  Sunday  morning  just  before  the  clock 
struck  one,  he  rallied  and  asked  if  his  child  had  come.  The 
minister  had  sent  for  her  at  once  as  soon  as  he  had  been 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  17 

able  to  secure  her  address  from  some  letters  found  in  the 
man's  pocket.  He  had  been  conscious  and  able  to  talk 
coherently  only  a  few  moments  since  his  attack.  "The 
child  is  coming.  She  will  be  here,"  Henry  Maxwell  said 
as  he  sat  there,  his  face  showing  marks  of  the  strain  of  the 
week's  vigil.  For  he  had  insisted  on  sitting  up  nearly  every 
night. 

"I  shall  never  see  her  in  this  world,"  the  man  whispered. 
Then  he  uttered  with  great  difficulty  the  words,  "You  have 
been  good  to  me.  Somehow  I  feel  as  if  it  was  what  Jesus 
would  do." After  a  few  moriients  he  turned  his  head  slightly, 
and  before  Henry  Maxwell  could  realize  the  fact,  the  doc- 
tor said,  "He  is  gone." 

The  Sunday  morning  that  dawned  on  the  city  of  Ray- 
mond was  exactly  like  the  Sunday  of  the  week  before. 
Henry  Maxwell  entered  his  pulpit  to  face  one  of  the  largest 
congregations  that  had  ever  crowded  First  Church.  He 
was  haggard  and  looked  as  if  he  had  just  risen  from  a  long 
illness.  His  wife  was  at  home  with  the  little  girl  who  had 
come  on  the  morning  train  an  hour  after  her  father  died. 
He  lay  in  that  spare  room,  his  troubles  over,  and  Henry 
Maxwell  could  see  the  face  as  he  opened  the  Bible  and 
arranged  his  different  notices  on  the  side  of  the  desk  as  he 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  for  ten  years. 

The  service  that  morning  contained  a  new  element.  No 
one  could  remember  when  the  minister  had  preached  in  the 
morning  without  notes.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  had  done 
so  occasionally  when  he  first  entered  the  ministry,  but  for 
a  long  time  he  had  carefully  written  out  every  word  of  his 
morning  sermon,  and  nearly  always  his  evening  discourse 
as  well.  It  cannot  be  said  that  his  sermon  this  morning 
was  very  striking  or  impressive.    He  talked  with  consider- 


18  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

able  hesitation.  It  was  evident  tliat  some  great  idea 
struggled  in  his  thought  for  utterance  but  it  was  not 
expressed  in  the  theme  he  had  chosen  for  his  preaching. 
It  was  near  the  close  of  his  sermon  that  he  began  to  gather 
a  certain  strength  that  had  been  painfully  lacking  at  the 
beginning.  He  closed  the  Bible  and  stepping  out  at  the 
side  of  the  desk,  he  faced  his  people,  and  began  to  talk  to 
them  about  the  remarkable  scene  of  the  week  before. 

"Our  brother,"  somehow  the  words  sounded  a  little 
strange  coming  from  Henry  Maxwell's  lips,  "passed  away 
this  morning.  I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  learn  all  his  his- 
tory. He  had  one  sister  living  in  Chicago.  I  have  written 
her  and  have  not  yet  received  an  answer.  His  little  girl 
is  with  us  and  will  remain  for  the  time." 

He  paused  and  looked  over  the  house.  He  thought  he 
had  never  seen  so  many  earnest  faces  during  the  entire 
pastorate.  He  was  not  able  yet  to  tell  his  people  his  experi- 
ences, the  crisis  through  which  he  w^as  even  now  mov- 
ing. But  something  of  his  feeling  passed  from  him  to  them, 
and  it  did  not  seem  to  him  that  he  was  acting  under  a  care- 
less impulse  at  all  to  go  on  and  break  to  them,  this  morn- 
ing, something  of  the  message  he  bore  in  his  heart.  So  he 
went  on. 

"The  appearance  and  words  of  this  stranger  in  the  church 
last  Sunday  made  a  very  powerful  impression  on  me.  I  am 
not  able  to  conceal  from  you  or  myself  the  fact  that  what 
he  said,  followed  as  it  has  been  by  his  death  in  my  house,  has 
compelled  me  to  ask  as  I  never  asked  before,  'What  does 
following  Jesus  mean?'  I  am  not  in  a  position  yet  to  utter 
any  condemnation  of  this  people,  or,  to  a  certain  extent,  of 
myself,  either  in  our  Christlike  relations  to  this  man  or 
the  number  he  represents  in  the  world.      But  all  that  does 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  19 

not  prevent  me  from  feeling  that  much  that  the  man 
said  was  so  vitally  true  that  we  must  face  it  in  an  attempt 
to  answer  it  or  else  stand  condemned  as  Christian  disciples. 
A  good  deal  that  was  said  here  last  Sunday  was  in  the 
nature  of  a  challenge  to  Christianity  as  it  is  seen  and  felt 
in  our  churches.  I  have  felt  this  with  increasing  emphasis 
every  day  since.  And  I  do  not  know  that  any  time  is  more 
appropriate  than  the  present  for  me  to  propose  a  plan  or  a 
purpose  which  has  been  forming  in  my  mind  as  a  satis- 
factory reply  to  much  that  was  said  here  last  Sunday." 

Again  Henry  Maxwell  paused  and  looked  into  the  faces  of 
his  people.  There  were  some  strong,  earnest  men  and  women 
in  the  First  Church.  The  minister  could  see  Edward  Norman, 
Editor  of  the  Raymond  "Daily  News."  He  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  First  Church  for  ten  years.  No  man  was  more 
honored  in  the  community.  There  was  Alexander  Powers, 
Superintendent  of  the  Railroad  shops.  There  was  Donald 
Marsh,  President  of  Lincoln  College,  situated  in  the 
suburbs  of  Raymond.  There  was  Milton  Wright,  one  of 
the  great  merchants  of  Raymond,  having  in  his  employ  at 
least  one  hundred  men  in  various  shops.  There  was  Dr. 
West  who,  although  still  comparatively  young,  was  quoted 
as  authority  in  special  surgical  cases.  There  was  young 
Jasper  Chase,  the  author,  who  had  written  one  successful 
book  and  was  said  to  be  at  work  on  a  new  novel.  There  was 
Miss  Virginia  Page,  the  heiress,  who  through  the  recent 
death  of  her  father  had  inherited  a  million  at  least,  and 
was  gifted  with  unusual  attractions  of  person  and  intellect. 
And  not  least  of  all,  Rachel  Winslow  from  her  seat  in  the 
choir  glowed  with  her  peculiar  beauty  of  light  this  morn- 
ing because  she  was  so  intensely  interested  in  the  whole 
scene. 


30  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

There  was  some  reason  perhaps,  in  view  of  such  material 
in  the  First  Church,  for  Henry  Maxwell's  feeling  of  satis- 
faction whenever  he  considered  his  parish  as  he  had  the 
previous  Sunday.  There  was  a  large  number  of  strong  indi- 
vidual characters  who  claimed  membership  there.  But  as 
he  noted  their  faces  this  morning,  Henry  Maxwell  was 
simply  wondering  how  many  of  them  would  respond  to  the 
strange  proposition  he  was  about  to  malie.  He  continued 
slowly,  taliing  time  to  choose  his  words  carefully  and  giv- 
ing the  people  an  impression  they  had  never  felt  before, 
even  when  he  was  at  his  best,  with  his  most  dramatic 
delivery. 

"What  I  am  going  to  propose  now  is  something  which 
ought  not  to  appear  unusual  or  at  all  impossible  of  execu- 
tion. Yet  I  am  aware  that  it  will  be  so  regarded  by  a  large 
number,  perhaps,  of  the  members  of  the  church.  But  in  order 
that  we  may  have  a  thorough  understanding  of  what  we 
are  considering,  I  will  put  my  proposition  very  plainly,  per- 
haps bluntly.  I  want  volunteers  from  the  First  Church 
who  will  pledge  themselves  earnestly  and  honestly  for  an 
entire  year  not  to  do  anything  without  first  asliing  the 
question,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  And  after  asking  that 
question,  each  one  will  follow  Jesus  as  exactly  as  he  knows 
how,  no  matter  what  the  results  may  be.  I  will  of  course 
include  myself  in  this  company  of  volunteers,  and  shall 
take  for  granted  that  my  church  here  will  not  be  surprised 
at  my  future  conduct  as  based  upon  this  standard  of  action, 
and  will  not  oppose  whatever  is  done  if  they  think  Christ 
would  do  it.  Have  I  made  my  meaning  clear?  At  the 
close  of  the  service  here  I  want  all  those  members  of  the 
church  who  are  willing  to  join  such  a  company  to  remain, 
and  we  will  talk  over  the  details  of  the  plan.    Our  motto 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  21 

Will  be,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  Our  aim  will  be  to  act  just 
as  he  would  if  he  were  iu  our  places,  regardless  of  immedi- 
ate results.  In  other  words,  we  propose  to  follow  Jesus' 
steps  as  closely  and  as  literally  as  we  believe  he  taught  his 
disciples  to  do.  And  those  who  volunteer  to  do  this  will 
pledge  themselves  for  an  entire  year,  beginning  with  to-day, 
so  to  act." 

Henry  Maxwell  paused  again  and  loolved  over  his  church. 
It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the  sensation  that  such  a  simple 
proposition  apparently  made.  Men  glanced  at  one  another 
in  astonishment.  It  was  not  like  Henry  Maxwell  to  define 
Christian  discipleship  in  this  way.  There  was  evident  con- 
fusion of  thought  over  his  proposition.  It  was  understood 
well  enough,  but  there  was  apparently  a  great  difference 
of  opinion  as  to  the  application  of  Jesus'  teaching  and 
example. 

Henry  Maxwell  calmly  closed  the  service  with  a  brief 
prayer.  The  organist  began  his  postlude  immediately  after 
the  benediction  and  the  people  began  to  go  out.  There  was 
a  great  deal  of  conversation.  Animated  groups  stood  all 
over  the  church  discussing  the  minister's  proposition.  It 
was  evidently  provoking  great  discussion.  After  several 
minutes  Henry  Maxwell  asked  all  who  expected  to  remain, 
to  pass  into  the  lecture  room  on  the  side.  He  himself  was 
detained  at  the  front  of  the  church  talking  with  several 
persons  there,  and  when  he  finally  turned  around,  the 
church  was  empty.  He  walked  over  to  the  lecture  room 
entrance  and  went  in.  He  was  almost  startled  to  see  the 
people  who  were  there.  He  had  not  made  up  his  mind 
about  any  of  his  members,  but  he  had  hardly  expected  that 
so  many  were  ready  to  enter  into  such  a  literal  testing  of 
their  discipleship  as  now  awaited  them.    There  were  per- 


33  TN  HIS  STEPS. 

haps  fifty  members  present.  Among  them  were  Rachel 
Winslow  and  Virginia  Page,  Mr.  Norman,  President  Marsh, 
Alexander  Powers  the  Railroad  Superintendent,  Milton 
Wright,  Dr.  West,  and  Jasper  Chase. 

The  pastor  closed  the  door  of  the  lecture  room  and  stood 
before  the  little  group.  His  face  was  pale  and  his  lips 
trembled  with  emotion.  It  was  to  him  a  genuine  crisis  in 
his  own  life  and  that  of  his  parish.  No  man  can  tell  until 
he  is  moved  by  the  Divine  Spirit  what  he  may  do,  or  how 
he  may  change  the  current  of  a  lifetime  of  fixed  habits 
of  thought  and  speech  and  action.  Henry  Maxwell  did 
not,  as  we  have  said,  j^et  know  himself  all  that  he  was 
passing  through,  but  he  was  conscious  of  a  great  upheaval 
in  his  definitions  of  Christian  discipleship  and  he  was 
moved  with  a  depth  of  feeling  he  could  not  measure,  as  he 
looked  into  the  faces  of  these  men  and  women  on  this  occa- 
sion. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  the  most  fitting  word  to  be  spoken 
first  was  that  of  prayer.  He  asked  them  all  to  pray  with 
him.  And  almost  with  the  first  syllable  he  uttered  there 
was  a  distinct  presence  of  the  Spirit  felt  by  them  all.  As 
the  prayer  went  on,  this  presence  grew  in  power.  They  all 
felt  it.  The  room  was  filled  with  it  as  plainly  as  if  it  had 
been  visible.  When  the  prayer  closed  there  was  a  silence 
that  lasted  several  moments.  All  the  heads  were  bowed. 
Henry  Maxwell's  face  was  wet  with  tears.  If  an  audible 
voice  from  heaven  had  sanctioned  their  pledge  to  follow 
the  Master's  steps,  not  one  person  present  could  have  felt 
more  certain  of  the  divine  blessing.  And  so  the  most  seri- 
ous movement  ever  started  in  the  First  Church  of  Raymond 
was  begun. 

"We  all  understand,"  said  Henry  Maxwell,  speaking  very 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  33 

quietly,  "what  we  have  undertaken  to  do.  We  pledge  our- 
selves to  do  everj^thing  in  our  daily  lives  after  asking  the 
question,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  regardless  of  what  may 
be  the  result  to  us.  Some  time  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you 
what  a  marvelous  change  has  come  over  my  life  within  a 
week's  time.  I  cannot  now.  But  the  experience  I  have  been 
through  since  last  Sunday  has  left  me  so  dissatisfied  with 
my  previous  definition  of  discipleship  that  I  have  been  com- 
pelled to  take  this  action.  I  did  not  dare  begin  it  alone. 
I  know  that  I  am  being  led  by  the  hand  of  divine  love  in 
all  this.  The  same  divine  impulse  must  have  led  you  also. 
Do  we  understand  fully  what  we  have  undertaken?" 

"I  want  to  ask  a  question,*'  said  liachel  Winslow. 

Every  one  turned  towards  her.  Her  faced  glowed  with  a 
beauty  that  no  loveliness  could  ever  create. 

"I  am  a  little  in  doubt  as  to  the  source  of  our  knowledge 
concerning  what  Jesus  Avould  do.  Who  is  to  decide  for  me 
just  what  he  would  do  in  my  case?  It  is  a  different  age. 
There  are  many  perplexing  questions  in  our  civilization  that 
are  not  mentioned  in  the  teaching  of  .Tesus.  How  am  I 
going  to  tell  what  he  would  do?" 

"There  is  no  way  that  I  know  of,"  replied  Mr.  Maxwell, 
"except  as  we  study  .Jesus  through  the  medium  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  You  remember  what  Christ  said  speaking  to  his  dis- 
ciples about  the  Holy  Spirit: 

**  'Howbeit,  v;hen  He,  the  Spirit  of  Truth  is  come.  He 
shall  guide  you  into  all  the  truth:  for  He  shall  not  speak 
from  Himself;  but  what  things  soever  He  shall  hear,  these 
shall  He  speak:  and  He  shall  declare  unto  you  the  things 
that  are  to  come.  He  shall  glorify  me:  for  He  shall  take 
of   mine     and     shall    declare    it    unto    you.       All    things 


34  IN   HIS  STEPS. 

whatsoever  the  Father  hath  are  mine:  therefore  said  I  that 
He  taketh  of  mine  and  shall  declare  it  unto  you.' 

"There  is  no  other  test  that  I  know  of.  We  shall  all  have 
to  decide  what  Jesus  would  do  after  going  to  that  source 
of  knowledge." 

"What  if  others  say  of  us  when  we  do  certain  things, 
that  Jesus  would  not  do  so?"  asked  the  Superintendent  of 
railroads. 

"We  cannot  prevent  that.  But  we  must  be  absolutely 
honest  with  ourselves.  The  standard  of  Christian  action 
cannot  vary  in  most  of  our  acts." 

"And  yet  what  one  church  member  thinks  Jesus  would 
do,  another  refuses  to  ac<;ept  as  his  possible  course  of 
action.  What  is  to  render  our  conduct  uniformly  Christ- 
like? Will  it  be  possible  to  reach  the  same  conclusions 
always  in  all  cases?"  asked  President  Marsh. 

Henry  Maxwell  was  silent  some  time.  Then  ho 
answered: 

"No.  I  don't  know  that  we  can  expect  that.  But  when 
it  comes  to  a  genuine,  honest,  enlightened  following  of 
Jesus'  steps,  I  cannot  believe  there  will  be  any  confusion 
either  in  our  own  minds  or  in  the  judgment  of  others.  We 
must  be  free  from  fanaticism  on  one  hand  and  too  much 
caution  on  the  other.  If  Jesus'  example  is  the  example  for 
the  world,  it  certainly  must  be  feasible  to  follow  it.  But 
we  need  to  remember  this  great  fact.  After  we  have  asked 
the  Spirit  to  tell  us  what  Jesus  would  do  and  have  received 
an  answer  to  it,  we  are  to  act  regardless  of  the  results  to 
ourselves.    Is  that  understood?" 

All  the  faces  in  the  room  were  raised  toward  the  minis- 
ter in  solemn  assent.  There  was  no  misunderstanding  the 
proposition.    Henry  Maxwell's  face  quivered  again  as  he 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  25 

noted  the  President  of  the  Endeavor  Society,  with  several 
members,  seated  baclv  of  the  older  men  and  women. 

They  remained  a  little  longer  tallying  over  details  and 
asking  questions,  and  agreed  to  report  to  one  another  every 
week  at  a  regular  meeting  the  result  of  their  experiences 
in  following  Jesus  in  this  way.  Henry  Maxwell  prayed 
again.  And  again,  as  before,  the  Spirit  made  Himself  mani- 
fest. Every  head  remained  bowed  a  long  time.  They  went 
away  finally  in  silence.  There  was  a  feeling  that  prevented 
speech.  Henry  Maxwell  shook  hands  with  them  all  as 
they  went  out.  Then  he  went  to  his  own  study  room 
back  of  the  pulpit  and  kneeled  down.  He  remained  there 
alone  nearly  half  an  hour.  When  he  went  home,  he  went 
into  the  room  where  the  dead  body  lay.  As  he  looked  at 
the  face,  he  cried  in  his  heart  again  for  strength  and  wis- 
dom. But  not  even  yet  did  he  realize  that  a  movement 
had  been  begun  which  would  lead  to  the  most  remarkable 
scries  of  events  that  the  city  of  Raymond  had  ever  known. 


CHAPTER  IL 


"He  that  saith  he  abideth  in  Him  ought  himself  also  to  walk 
even  as  He  walked." 


Edward  Normau,  editor  of  the  Raymond  "Daily  News," 
sat  in  his  office  room  Monday  morning  and  faced  a  new 
world  of  action.  He  had  made  his  pledge  in  good  faith  to 
do  everything  after  asking,  "What  would  Jesus  do?"  and  as 
he  supposed  with  his  eyes  open  to  all  the  possible  results. 
But  as  the  regular  life  of  the  paper  started  on  another 
week's  rush  and  whirl  of  activity  he  confronted  it  with  a 
degree  of  hesitation  and  a  feeling  nearly  akin  to  fear.  Ha 
had  come  down  to  the  office  very  early  and  for  a  few  min- 
utes was  by  himself.  He  sat  at  his  desk  in  a  growing 
thoughtfulness  that  finally  became  a  desire  which  he  knew 
was  as  great  as  it  was  unusual.  He  had  yet  to  learn,  with 
all  the  others  in  that  little  company  pledged  to  do  the 
Christlike  thing,  that  the  Spirit  of  Life  was  moving  in 
power  through  his  own  life  as  never  before.  He  rose  and 
shut  his  door  and  then  did  what  he  had  not  done  for  years. 
He  kneeled  down  by  his  desk  and  prayed  for  the  divine 
presence  and  wisdom  to  direct  him. 

He  rose  with  the  day  before  him  and  his  promise  distinct 
and  clear  in  his  mind.  "Now  for  action,"  he  seemed  to  say. 
But  he  would  be  led  by  events  as  fast  as  they  came  on. 

He  opened  his  door  and  began  the  routine  of  the  office 
work.     The  managing  editor  had  just  come  in  and  was  at 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  27 

his  desk  in  the  adjoining  room.     One  of  the  reporters  there 
was  pounding  out  something  on  a  type  writer. 

Edward  Norman  began  an  editorial.  The  "Daily  News" 
w^as  an  evening  paper  and  Norman  usually  completed  his 
leading  editorial  before  eight  o'clock. 

He  had  been  writing  about  fifteen  minutes  when  the  man- 
aging editor  called  out,  "Here's  this  press  report  of  yester- 
day's prize  fight  at  the  Resort.  It  will  make  up  three  col- 
umns and  a  half.    I  suppose  it  all  goes  in?" 

Edward  Norman  was  one  of  those  newspaper  men  who 
keep  an  eye  on  every  detail  of  the  paper.  The  managing 
editor  always  consulted  his  chief  in  matters  of  both  small 
and  large  importance.  Sometimes  as  in  this  case  it  was 
merelj-  a  nominal  inquiry. 
~  "Yes— No.    Let  me  see  it." 

He  took  the  type-written  matter  just  as  it  came  from 
the  telegraph  editor,  and  ran  over  it  carefully.  Then  he  laid 
the  sheets  down  on  his  desk  and  did  some  very  hard  think- 
ing. 

"We  won't  run  this  in  to-day,"  he  said  finally. 

The  managing  editor  was  standing  in  the  doorway  be- 
tween the  two  rooms.  He  was  astonished  at  the  editor's 
remark  and  thought  he  had  perhaps  misunderstood  him. 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"Leave  it  out.    We  won't  use  it." 

"But—"  The  managing  editor  was  simply  dumfounded. 
He  stared  at  Norman  as  if  the  editor  were  out  of  his  mind. 

"I  think,  Clark,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  printed,  and 
that's  the  end  of  it,"  said  Edward  Norman,  looking  up 
from  his  desk. 

Clark  seldom  had  any  words  with  the  chief.  Norman's 
Vvord  had  always  been  law  in  the  ofiice  and  he  had  seldom 


38  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

been  known  to  change  his  mind.  The  circumstances  now, 
however,  seemed  to  be  so  extraordinary  that  Clark  could 
not  help  expressing  himself. 

"Do  you  mean  that  the  paper  is  to  go  to  press  without  a 
word  of  the  prize  fight  in  it?" 

"Yes,  that's  just  what  I  mean." 

"But  it's  unheard  of.  All  the  other  papers  will  print  it. 
What  will  our  subscribers  say?  Why,  it's  simply—"  Clark 
paused,  unable  to  find  words  to  say  what  he  thought. 

Edward  Norman  looked  at  Clark  thoughtfully.  The  man- 
aging editor  was  a  member  of  a  church  of  a  different  de- 
nomination from  that  of  Norman's.  The  two  men  had 
never  talked  together  on  religious  matters  although  they 
had  been  associated  on  the  paper  for  several  years. 

"Come  in  here  a  minute,  Clark,  and  shut  the  door,"  said 
Norman. 

Clark  came  in  and  the  two  men  faced  each  other  alone. 
Norman  did  not  speak  for  a  minute.  Then  he  said  abruptly, 

"Clark,  if  Christ  were  editing  a  daily  paper  do  you  hon- 
estly think  he  would  print  three  columns  and  a  half  of 
prize  fight  in  i1  ?" 

Clark  gasped  in  astonishment.  Finally  he  replied— "No, 
I  don't  suppose  he  would." 

"Well,  that's  my  only  reason  for  shutting  this  account 
out  of  the  "News."  I  have  decided  not  to  do  a  thing  in 
connection  with  the  paper  for  a  whole  year  that  I  hon- 
eslly  believe  Jesus  would  not  do." 

Clark  could  not  have  looked  more  amazed  if  the  chief  had 
suddenly  gone  crazy.  In  fact,  he  did  think  something  was 
wrong,  though  Mr.  Norman  was  one  of  the  last  men  in  the 
world,  in  his  judgment,  to  lose  his  mind. 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  29 

"What  effect  will  that  have  ou  the  paper?"  he  finally 
managed  to  ask  in  a  faint  voice. 

"What  do  you  think?"  asked  Edward  Norman,  with  a 
keen  glance. 

"I  think  it  will  simply  ruin  the  paper,"  replied  Clark 
promptly.  He  was  gathering  up  his  bewildered  senses  and 
began  to  remonstrate.  "Why,  it  isn't  feasible  to  run  a 
paper  now-a-days  on  any  such  basis.  It's  too  ideal.  The 
world  isn't  ready  for  it.  You  can't  make  it  pay.  Just 
as  sure  as  you  live,  if  you  shut  out  this  prize  fight  report 
you  will  lose  ^mndreds  of  subscribers.  It  doesn't  take  a 
prophet  to  say  that.  The  very  best  people  in  town  are 
eager  to  read  it.  They  know  it  has  taken  place  and  when 
they  get  the  paper  this  evening  they  will  expect  half  a 
page  at  least.  Surely,  you  can't  afford  to  disregard  the 
wishes  of  the  public  to  such  an  extent.  It  will  be  a  great 
mistake  if  you  do,  in  my  opinion." 

Edward  Norman  sat  silent  a  minute.  Then  he  spoke 
gently,  but  firmly. 

"Clark,  what  in  your  honest  opinion  is  the  right  standard 
for  determining  conduct?  Is  the  only  right  standard  for 
every  one  the  probable  action  of  Jesus?  Would  you  say 
that  the  highest  best  law  for  a  man  to  live  by  was  con- 
tained in  asking  the  question,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  and 
then  doing  it  regardless  of  results?  In  other  words  do  you 
think  men  everywhere  ought  to  follow  Jesus'  example  as 
close  as  they  can  in  their  daily  lives?" 

Clark  turned  red,  and  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair 
before  he  answered  the  editor's  question. 

"Why,— yes,— .  I  suppose  if  you  put  it  on  the  ground  of 
what  they  ought  to  do  there  is  no  other  standard  of  conduct. 
But  the  question  is,  what  is  feasible?    Is  it  possible  to  make 


30  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

it  pay?  To  succeed  in  the  newspaper  business  we  have  got 
to  conform  to  the  customs  and  the  recognized  methods  of 
society.    We  can't  do  as  we  would  do  in  an  ideal  world." 

"Do  you  mean  that  Ave  can't  run  the  paper  strictly  on 
Christian  principles  and  malie  it  succeed?" 

"Yes,  that's  just  what  I  mean.  It  can't  be  done.  We'll 
go  bankrupt  in  thirty  days." 

Edward  Norman  did  not  reply  at  once.  He  was  vei*y 
thoughtful. 

"We  shall  have  occasion  to  talk  this  over  again,  Clark. 
Meanwhile,  I  think  we  ought  to  understand  each  other 
frankly.  I  have  pledged  myself  for  a  year  to  do  every- 
thing connected  with  the  paper  after  answering  the  ques- 
tion, 'What  would  Jesus  do?'  as  honestly  as  possible.  I 
shall  continue  to  do  this  in  the  belief  that  not  only  can  we 
succeed  but  that  we  can  succeed  better  than  we  ever  did." 

Clark  rose.    "Then  the  report  does  not  go  in?" 

"It  does  not.  'J'here  is  plenty  of  good  material  to  take 
its  place,  and  you  know  what  it  is." 

Clark  hesitated. 
"Are  you  going  to  say  anything  about  the  absence  of  the 
report?" 

"No,  let  the  paper  go  to  press  as  if  there  had  been  no 
such  thing  as  a  prize  fight  yesterday." 

Clark  walked  out  of  the  room  to  his  own  desk  feeling 
as  if  the  bottom  had  dropped  out  of  everything.  He  was 
astonished,  bewildered,  excited  and  considerablj'-  enraged. 
His  great  respect  for  Norman  checked  his  rising  indigna- 
tion and  disgust,  but  with  it  all  was  a  feeling  of  growing 
wonder  at  the  sudden  change  of  motive  which  had  entered 
the  office  of  the  "Daily  News"  and  threatened  as  he  firmly 
believed,  to  destroy  it. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  81 

Before  noon  every  reporter,  pressman  and  employe  on 
the  "Daily  News"  was  informed  of  the  remarkable  fact 
thai  the  paper  was  going  to  press  without  a  word  in  it 
about  the  famous  prize  fight  of  Sunday.  The  reporters 
were  simply  astonished  beyond  measure  at  the  an- 
nouncement of  the  fact.  Every  one  in  the  stereotyping 
and  composing  rooms  had  something  to  say  about  the  un- 
heard of  omission.  Two  or  three  times  during  the  day 
when  Mr.  Norman  had  occasion  to  visit  the  composing 
rooms,  the  men  stopped  their  work  or  glanced  around 
their  cases  looking  at  him  curiously.  He  knew  that  he  w^as 
being  observed  strangely  and  said  nothing,  and  did  not  ap- 
pear to  note  it. 

There  had  been  several  changes  in  the  paper  suggested 
by  the  editor,  but  nothing  marked.  He  w'as  waiting,  and 
thinking  deeply.  He  felt  as  if  he  needed  time  and  con- 
siderable opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  his  best  judgment 
in  several  matters  before  he  answered  his  ever  present 
question  in  the  right  way.  It  was  not  because  there  were 
not  a  great  many  things  in  the  life  of  the  paper  that  were 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christ  that  he  did  not  act  at  once, 
but  because  he  w^as  yet  greatly  in  doubt  concerning  what 
action  Jesus  would  take. 

When  the  ''Daily  News"  came  out  that  evening  it  carried 
to  Its  subscribers  a  distinct  sensation.  The  presence  of  the 
report  of  the  prize  fight  could  not  have  produced  anything 
equal  to  the  effect  of  its  omission.  Hundreds  of  men  in 
the  hotels  and  stores  down  town,  as  well  as  regular  sub- 
scribers, eagerly  opened  the  paper  and  searched  it  through 
for  the  account  of  the  great  fight.  Not  finding  it,  they 
rushed  to  the  news  stand  and  bought  other  papers.  Even 
the  new^sboys  had  not  all  understood  the  fact  of  the  omis- 


82  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

sion.  One  of  them  was  calling  out,  "Daily  News!  Full  'count 
great  prize  fight  't  Resort.    News,  Sir!" 

A  man  on  the  corner  of  the  Avenue  close  by  the  "News" 
office  bought  the  paper,  looked  over  its  front  page  hur- 
riedly and  then  angrily  called  the  boy  back. 

"Here  boy!  What's  the  matter  with  your  paper!  There 
is  no  prize  fight  here!  What  do  you  mean  by  selling  old 
papers?" 

"Old  papers,  nuthin!"  replied  the  boy  indignantly.  "Dat's 
to-day's  paper.    What's  de  matter  wid  you?" 

"But  there's  no  account  of  any  prize  fight  here!    Look!" 

The  man  handed  back  the  paper  and  the  boy  glanced  at 
it  hurriedly.  Then  he  whistled,  while  a  bewildering  look 
crept  over  his  face.  Seeing  another  boy  running  by  with 
papers  he  called  out,  "Say,  Sam,  lemme  see  your  pile!"  A 
hasty  examination  revealed  the  remarkable  fact  that  all 
the  copies  of  the  "News"  were  silent  on  the  prize  fight. 

"Here,  give  me  another  paper!  One  with  the  prize  fight 
account!"  shouted  the  customer.  He  received  it  and  walked 
off,  while  the  two  boys  remained  comparing  notes  and  lost 
in  wonder  at  the  event.  "Somp'n  slipped  a  cog  in  the 
Newsy  sure,"  said  first  boy.  But  he  couldn't  tell,  why  and 
rushed  over  to  the  "News"  office  to  find  out. 

There  were  several  other  boys  at  the  delivery  room  and 
they  were  all  excited  and  disgusted.  The  amount  of  slangy 
remonstrances  hurled  at  the  clerk  back  of  the  long  counter 
would  have  driven  any  one  else  to  despair.  He  was  used 
to  more  or  less  of  it  all  the  time  and  consequently  hard- 
ened to  it. 

Mr.  Norman  was  just  coming  down  stairs  on  his  way 
home  and  he  paused  as  he  went  by  the  door  of  the  delivery 
room  and  looked  in. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  33 

"What's  the  matter  here,  George?"  he  asked  the  clerk 
as  he  noted  the  unusual  confusion. 

"The  boys  say  they  can't  sell  any  copies  of  the  'News' 
to-night  because  the  prize  fight  is  not  in  it,"  replied 
George  looking  curiously  at  the  editor  as  so  many  of  the 
employes  had  done  during  the  day. 

Mr.  Norman  l.esitated  a  moment,  then  walked  into  the 
room  and  confronted  the  boys. 

"How  many  papers  are  there  here,  boys?  Count  them 
out  and  I'll  buy  them  to-night." 

There  was  a  wild  stare  and  a  wild  counting  of  papers  on 
the  part  of  the  boys. 

"Give  them  their  money,  George,  and  if  any  of  the  other 
boys  come  in  with  the  same  complaint  buy  their  unsold 
copies.  Is  that  fair?"  he  asked  the  boys  who  were  smitten 
into  unusual  silence  by  the  unheard-of  action  on  the  part 
of  the  editor. 

"Fair!  Well,  I  should—  But  will  you  keep  dis  up?  Will 
dis  be  a  continual  performance  for  de  benefit  of  de  fra- 
ternity ?" 

Mr.  Norman  smiled  slightly  but  he  did  not  think  it  was 
necessary  to  answer  the  question.  He  walked  out  of  the 
oflBce  and  went  home.  On  the  way  he  could  not  avoid  that 
constant  query,  "\rould  Jesus  have  done  it?"  It  was  not 
so  much  with  reference  to  this  last  transaction  as  to  the 
entire  motive  that  had  urged  him  on  since  he  had  made  the 
promise.  The  news  boys  were  necessarily  sufferers  through 
the  action  he  had  taken.  Why  should  they  lose  money  by 
it?  They  were  not  to  blame.  He  was  a  rich  man  and 
could  afford  to  put  a  little  brightness  into  their  lives  if  he 
chose  to  do  it.  He  believed  as  he  went  on  his  way  home 
that  Jesus  would  have  done  either  what  he  did  or  some- 


84  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

thing  similar  in  order  to  be  free  from  any  possible  feeling 
of  injustice.  He  was  not  deciding  these  questions  for  any 
one  else  but  for  his  own  conduct.  He  was  not  in  a  position 
to  dogmatize  and  he  felt  that  he  could  answer  only  with  his 
own  judgment  and  conscience  as  to  his  interpretation  of 
Jesus'  probable  action.  The  falling  off  in  sales  of  the 
paper  he  had  in  a  certain  measure  foreseen.  But  he  was 
yet  to  realize  the  full  extent  of  the  loss  to  the  paper  if 
such  a  policy  should  be  continued. 

During  the  w^eek  he  was  in  receipt  of  numerous  letters 
commenting  on  the  absence  from  the  "News"  of  the  account 
of  the  prize  fight.  Two  or  three  of  these  letters  may  be  of 
interest. 

Editor  of  the  "News." 
Dear  Sir: 
I  have  been  deciding  for  some  time  to  change  my  paper.  I 
want  a  journal  that  is  up  to  the  times,  progressive  and  enterpris- 
ing, supplying  the  pubhc  demand  at  all  points.  The  recent  freak 
of  your  paper  in  refusing  to  print  the  account  of  the  famous  con- 
test at  the  Resort  has  decided  me  iinaily  to  change  my  paper. 
Please  discontinue  it. 

Very  truly  yours, 


(Here  followed  the  name  of  a  business  man  who  had 
been  a  subscriber  for  many  years.) 

Edward  Norman. 

Editor  of  the  "Daily  News":  Kaymond. 
Dear  Ed. 

What  is  this  sensation  you  have  given  the  people  of  your 
burg?  Hope  you  don't  intend  to  try  the  "Reform  Business," 
through  the  avenue  of  the  Press.  It's  dangerous  to  experiment 
much  along  that  line.  Take  my  advice  and  stick  to  the  enter- 
prising modern  methods  you  have  made  so  successful  for  the 
"News."  The  public  wants  prize  fights  and  such.  Give  it  what 
it  wants  and  iet  some  one  else  do  the  Reforming  business. 

Yours, .        — , 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  35 

(Here  followed  the  namo  of  one  of  Norman's  old  friends, 
the  editor  of  a  daily  in  an  adjoining  town.) 

My  dear  Mr.  Norman: 

I  liasten  to  Avrite  you  a  note  of  appreciation  for  the  evident 
carrying  out  of  your  promise.  It  is  a  splendid  beginning  and  no 
one  feels  the  value  of  it  better  than  I  do.  I  know  something  of 
what  it  will  cost  you,  but  not  all. 

Your  Pastor, 

Henry  Maxwell. 

One  letter  which  he  opened  immediately  after  reading 
this  from  Maxwell  revealed  to  him  something  of  the  loss  to 
his  business  that  possibly  awaited  him. 

Mr.  Edward  Norman; 

Editor  of  the  "Daily  News: 

Dear  Sir. 
At  the  expiration  of  my  advertising  limit  you  will  do  me  the 
favor  not  to  continue  as  you  have  done  heretofore.       I  enclose 
check  for  payment  in  full  and  shall  consider  my  account  with 
your  paper  closed  after  date. 

Very  truly  yours, 


(Here  followed  the  name  of  one  of  the  largest  dealers 
in  Tobacco  in  the  city.  He  had  been  in  the  habit  of  insert- 
ing a  column  of  conspicuous  advertising  and  paying  for  it 
a  very  large  price.) 

Edward  Norman  laid  this  letter  down  very  thought- 
fully, and  then  after  a  moment  he  toolv  up  a  copy  of  his 
paper  and  looked  through  the  advertising  columns.  There  was 
no  connection  implied  in  the  tobacco  merchant's  letter  be- 
tween the  omission  of  the  prize  fight  and  the  withdrawal 
of  the  advertisement.  But  he  could  not  avoid  putting  the 
two  together.  In  point  of  fact,  he  afterwards  learned  that 
the  tobacco  dealer  withdrew  his  advertisement  because  he 
bad  heard  that  the  editor  of  the  "News"  was  about  to  enter 


36  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

upon  some  queer  reform  policy  that  would  be  certain  to 
reduce  its  subscription  list. 

But  the  letter  directed  Norman's  attention  to  the  adver- 
tising phase  of  his  paper.  He  had  not  considered  this 
before.  As  he  glanced  over  the  columns  he  could  not  escape 
the  conviction  that  Jesus  could  not  permit  some  of  them 
in  his  paper.  What  would  Jesus  do  with  that  other  long 
advertisement  of  liquor.?  Raymond  enjoyed  a  system 
of  high  license,  and  the  saloon  and  the  billiard  hall 
and  the  beer  garden  were  a  part  of  the  city's  Christian 
civilization.  He  was  simply  doing  what  every  other  busi- 
ness man  in  Raymond  did.  And  it  was  one  of  the  best 
paying  sources  of  revenue.  What  would  the  paper  do  if 
It  cut  these  out?  Could  it  live?  That  was  the  question. 
But— was  that  the  question  after  all?  "What  would  Jesus 
do?"  That  was  the  question  he  was  answering,  or  trying 
to  answer,  this  week.  Would  Jesus  advertise  whisky  and 
tobacco  in  his  paper? 

Edward  Norman  asked  it  honestly,  and  after  a  prayer 
for  help  and  wisdom  he  asked  Clark  to  come  into  the  office. 

Clark  came  in  feeling  that  the  paper  was  at  a  crisis 
and  prepared  for  almost  anything  after  his  Monday  morn- 
ing experience.    This  was  Thursday. 

"Clark,"  said  Norman,  speaking  slowly  and  carefully, 
"I  have  been  looking  at  our  advertising  columns  and  have 
decided  to  dispense  with  some  of  the  matter  as  soon  as 
the  contracts  run  out.  I  wish  you  would  notify  the  adver- 
tising agent  not  to  solicit  or  renew  the  ads.  I  have  marked 
here." 

He  handed  the  paper  with  the  marked  places  over  to 
Clark,  who  took  it  and  looked  over  the  columns  with  a  very 
serious  air. 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  37 

"This  will  mean  a  great  loss  to  the  'News.'  How  long 
do  you  think  j'ou  can  keep  this  sort  of  thing  up?"  Clark 
was  astonished  at  the  editor's  action  and  could  not  under- 
stand it. 

"Clark,  do  you  think  if  Jesus  were  the  editor  and  pro- 
prietor of  a  daily  paper  in  Raymond  he  would  print  adver- 
tisements of  whisky  and  tobacco  in  it?" 

Clark  looked  at  his  chief  with  that  same  look  of  aston- 
ishment which  had  greeted  the  question  before. 

"Well— no— I  don't  suppose  he  would.  But  what  has 
that  to  do  with  us?  We  can't  do  as  he  would.  Newspapers 
can't  be  run  on  any  such  basis." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Edward  Norman  quietly. 

"Why  not!  Because  they  will  lose  more  money  than 
they  make,  that's  all."Clark  spoke  out  with  an  irritation 
that  he  really  felt.  "We  shall  certainly  bankrupt  the 
paper  with  this  sort  of  business  policy." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Norman  asked  the  question  not  as 
if  he  expected  an  answer  but  simply  as  if  he  were  talking 
with  himself.    After  a  pause  he  said, 

"You  may  direct  Marks  to  do  as  I  said.  I  believe  it  is 
what  Jesus  would  do,  and  as  I  told  you,  Clark,  that  is  what 
1  have  promised  to  try  to  do  for  a  year,  regardless  of  what 
the  results  may  be  to  me.  I  cannot  believe  that  by  any 
kind  of  reasoning  we  could  reach  a  conclusion  justifying 
Jesus  in  the  advertisement,  in  this  age,  of  whisky  and 
tobacco  in  a  newspaper.  There  are  some  other  advertise- 
ments of  a  doubtful  character  I  shall  study  into.  Mean- 
while 1  feel  a  conviction  in  regard  to  these  that  cannot  be 
silenced." 

Clark  went  back  to  his  desk  feeling  as  if  he  had  been 


38  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

in  the  presence  of  a  very  peculiar  person.  He  could  .not 
grasp  the  meaning  of  it  all.  He  felt  enraged  and  alarmed. 
He  was  sure  any  such  policy  would  ruin  the  paper  as  soon 
as  it  became  generally  known  that  the  editor  was  trying 
to  do  everything  by  such  an  absurd  moral  standard.  What 
would  become  of  business  if  this  standard  were  adopted? 
It  would  upset  every  custom  and  introduce  endless  con- 
fusion. It  was  simply  foolishness.  It  was  downright 
idiocj'.  So  Clark  said  to  himself,  and  when  Marks  was 
informed  of  the  action,  he  seconded  the  managing  editor 
with  some  very  forcible  ejaculations.  What  was  the 
matter  with  the  chief?  AYas  he  insane?  Was  he  going 
to  bankrupt  the  whole  business  ? 

But  Edward  Norman  had  not  faced  his  most  serious 
problem. 

When  he  came  down  to  the  office  Friday  morning  he 
was  confronted  with  the  usual  program  for  the  Sunday 
morning  edition.  The  "News"  was  one  of  the  few  even- 
ing papers  to  issue  a  Sunday  edition,  and  it  had  always 
been  remarkably  successful  financially.  There  was  an 
average  of  one  page  of  literary  and  religious  items  to  thirty 
or  forty  pages  of  sport,  theater,  gossip,  fashion,  society 
and  political  material.  This  made  a  very  interesting  maga- 
zine of  all  sorts  of  reading  matter  and  had  always  been 
welcomed  by  all  the  subscribers,  church  members  and  all, 
as  a  Sunday  necessity. 

Edward  Norman  now  faced  this  fact  and  put  to  him- 
self the  question,  "What  would  Jesus  do?"  If  he  were  edi- 
tor of  a  paper  would  he  deliberately  plan  to  put  into  the 
homes  of  all  the  church  people  and  Christians  of  Raymond 
such  a  collection  of  reading  matter  on  the  one  day  of  the 
week  which  ought  to  be  given  up  to  something  better  and 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  39 

holier?  He  was  of  course  familiar  with  the  regular  argu- 
ment for  the  Suuday  paper  that  the  public  needed  some- 
thing of  the  sort  and  the  working  man,  especially, who  would 
not  go  to  church  any  way,  ought  to  have  something  enter- 
taining and  instructive  on  Sunday,  his  only  day  of  rest. 
But  suppose  the  Sunday  morning  paper  did  not  pay?  Sup- 
pose there  was  no  money  in  it?  Hoav  eager  would  the  edi- 
tor or  the  proprietor  be  then  to  supply  this  crying  need 
of  the  working  man?  Edward  Norman  communed  honestly 
with  himself  over  the  subject.  Taking  everything  into 
account,  would  Jesus  probably  edit  a  Sunday  morning 
paper?  No  matter  whether  it  paid.  That  was  not  the 
question.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Sunday  "News"  paid  so 
well  that  it  would  be  a  direct  loss  of  thousands  of  dollars 
to  discontinue  it.  Besides,  the  regular  subscribers  had  paid 
for  a  seven-day  paper.  Had  he  any  right  now  to  give  them 
anything  less  than  they  had  supposed  they  had  paid  for? 

He  was  honestly  perplexed  by  the  question.  So  much 
was  involved  in  the  discontinuance  of  the  Sunday  edition 
that  for  the  first  time  he  almost  declined  to  be  guided  by 
the  standard  of  Jesus'  probable  action.  He  was  sole  pro- 
prietor of  the  paper.  It  was  his  to  shape  as  he  chose.  He 
had  no  board  of  directors  to  consult  as  to  policy.  But  as  he 
sat  there  surrounded  by  the  usual  quantity  of  material  for 
the  Sunday  edition,  he  reached  some  definite  conclusions. 
And  among  them  was  the  determination  to  call  in  the  force 
of  the  paper  and  frankly  state  his  motive  and  purpose. 

He  sent  word  for  Clark  and  the  other  men  in  the  oflice, 
Including  the  few  reporters  who  were  in  the  building  and 
the  foreman,  with  what  men  were  in  the  composing  room, 
(it  was  early  in  the  morning  and  they  were  not  all  in)  to 
come  into  the  mailing  room.     This  was  a  large  room,  and 


40  IN  HIS  STEPS 

the  men  came  in,  wondering,  and  perched  around  on  the 
tables  and  counters.  It  was  a  very  unusual  proceeding,  but 
they  all  agreed  that  the  paper  was  being  run  on  new  prin- 
ciples any  how,  and  they  all  watched  Mr.  Norman  curiously 
as  he  spoke. 

"I  called  you  in  here  to  let  you  know  my  plans  for  the 
future  of  the  "News."  I  propose  certain  changes  which  I 
believe  are  necessary.  I  understand  that  some  things  I 
have  already  done  are  regarded  by  the  men  as  very  strange. 
I  wish  to  state  my  motive  in  doing  what  I  have  done." 
Here  he  told  the  men  what  he  had  already  told  Clark  and 
they  stared,  as  he  had  done,  and  looked  as  painfully  con- 
scious. 

"Now  in  acting  on  this  standard  of  conduct  I  have 
reached  a  conclusion  which  will,  no  doubt,  cause  some  sur- 
prise. I  have  decided  that  the  Sunday  morning  edition  of 
the  "News"  shall  be  discontinued  after  next  Sunday's  issue. 
I  shall  state  in  that  Issue  my  reasons  for  discontinuing.  In 
order  to  make  up  to  the  subscribers  the  amount  of  read- 
ing matter  they  may  suppose  themselves  entitled  to,  we 
can  issue  a  double  number  on  Saturday,  as  is  done  by  very 
many  evening  papers  that  make  no  attempt  at  a  Sunday 
edition.  1  am  convinced  that,  from  a  Christian  point  of 
view,  more  harm  than  good  has  been  done  by  our  Sunday 
morning  paper.  I  do  not  believe  that  Jesus  would  be 
responsible  for  it  if  He  were  in  my  place  to-day.  It  will 
occasion  some  trouble  to  arrange  the  details  caused  by  this 
change  with  the  advertisers  and  subscribers.  That  is  for 
me  to  look  after.  The  change  itself  is  one  that  will  take 
place.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  the  loss  will  fall  on  myself. 
Neither  the  reporters  nor  the  press  men  need  make  any 
particular  changes  in  their  plans." 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  41 

Edward  Norman  looked  around  the  room  and  no  one 
spoke.  He  was  struck  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  with 
the  fact  that  in  all  the  years  of  his  newspaper  life  he  had 
never  had  the  force  of  the  paper  together  in  this  waj'. 
"Would  Jesus  do  that?  That  is,  would  He  probably  run  a 
newspaper  on  some  loving  family  plan  where  editors, 
reporters,  pressmen  and  all,  met  to  discuss  and  devise  and 
plan  for  the  making  of  a  paper  that  should  have  in  view—" 

He  caught  himself  drawing  almost  away  from  the  facts 
of  typographical  unions  and  office  rules  and  reporters' 
enterprise,  and  all  the  cold  business-like  methods  that 
make  a  great  daily  successful.  But  still,  the  vague  picture 
that  came  up  in  the  mailing  room  would  not  fade  away, 
even  when  he  had  gone  into  his  office  and  the  men  had 
gone  back  to  their  places  with  wonder  in  their  looks  and 
questions  of  all  sorts  on  their  tongues  as  they  talked  over 
the  editor's  remarkable  actions. 

Clark  came  in  and  had  a  long  serious  talk  with  the 
chief.  He  was  thoroughly  roused  and  his  protest  almost 
reached  the  point  of  resigning  his  place.  Norman  guarded 
himself  carefully.  PJvery  minute  of  the  interview  was 
painful  to  him  but  he  felt  more  than  ever  the  necessity 
of  doing  the  Christlike  thing.  Clark  was  a  very  valuable 
man.  It  would  be  difficult  to  fill  his  place.  But  he  was  not 
able  to  give  any  reasons  for  continuing  the  Sunday  paper 
that  answered  the  question,  "What  would  Jesus  do?"  by 
letting  Jesus  print  that  edition. 

"It  comes  to  this,  then,"  said  Clark  finally.  "You  will 
bankrupt  the  paper  in  thirty  days.  We  might  as  well  face 
that  future  fact." 

"I  don't  think  we  shall.    Will  you  stay  by  the  "News" 


42  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

until  it  is  bankrupt?"   asked    Edward    Normau    with    a 
strauge  smile. 

"Mr.  Norman,  I  don't  understand  you.  You  are  not  the 
same  man  this  week  that  I  ever  knew." 

•'I  don't  know  myself,  either,  Clark.  Something  remark- 
able has  caught  me  up  and  borne  me  on.  But  I  was  never 
more  convinced  of  final  success  and  power  for  the  paper. 
You  have  not  answered  my  question.  Will  you  stay  with 
me?" 

Clark  hesitated  a  moment  and  finally  said,  yes.  Nor- 
man shook  hands  with  him  and  turned  to  his  desk.  Clark 
went  back  into  his  room  stirred  by  a  number  of  conflicting 
emotions.  He  had  never  before  known  such  an  exciting 
and  mentally"  disturbing  week,  and  he  felt  now  as  if  he 
were  connected  with  an  enterprise  that  might  at  any 
moment  collapse  and  ruhi  him  and  all  connected  with  it. 

Sunday  morning  dawned  again  on  Raymond,  and 
Henry  Maxwell's  church  was  again  crowded.  Before  the 
service  began,  Edward  Norman  attracted  general  attention. 
He  sat  quietly  in  his  usual  place  about  three  seats  from 
the  pulpit.  The  Sunday  morning  issue  of  the  "News"  con- 
taining the  statement  of  its  discontinuance  had  been  read 
by  nearly  every  man  in  the  house.  The  announcement 
had  been  expressed  in  such  remarkable  language  that  every 
reader  was  struck  by  it.  No  such  series  of  distinct  sensa- 
tions had  ever  disturbed  the  usual  business  custom  of  Ray- 
mond. The  events  connected  with  the  "News"  were  not 
all.  People  were  eagerly  talking  about  the  strange  things 
done  during  the  week  by  Alexander  Powers  at  the  Rail- 
road shops,  and  by  Milton  Wright  in  his  stores  on  the 
avenue.  The  service  progressed  upon  a  distinct  wave  of 
excitement  in  the  pews.     Henry  Maxwell  faced  it  all  with 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  48 

a  calmness  which  indicated  a  strength  and  purpose  more 
than  usual.  His  prayers  were  very  helpful.  His  sermon 
was  not  so  easy  to  describe.  How  would  a  minister  be 
apt  to  preach  to  his  people  if  he  came  before  them  after  an 
entire  week  of  eager  asking,  "How  would  Jesus  preach? 
What  would  He  probably  say?"  It  is  very  certain  tliat 
Henry  Maxwell  did  not  preach  as  he  had  done  two  Sundays 
before.  Tuesday  of  the  past  week  he  had  stood  by  the 
grave  of  the  dead  stranger  and  said  the  words,  "Earth  to 
earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  and  still  he  was  moved 
by  the  spirit  of  a  deeper  impulse  than  he  could  measure  as 
he  thought  of  his  people  and  yearned  for  the  Christ  mes- 
sage when  he  should  be  in  his  pulpit  again. 

Now  that  Sunday  had  come  and  the  people  were  there 
to  hear,  ^vhat  would  the  Master  tell  them?  He  agonized 
over  his  preparation  for  them  and  yet  he  knew  he  had  not 
been  able  to  fit  his  message  into  his  ideal  of  the  Christ. 
.Nevertheless  no  one  in  the  First  Church  could  remember 
hearing  such  a  sermon  before.  There  was  in  it  rebuke 
for  sin,  especially  hypocrisy.  There  was  definite  rebuke 
of  the  greed  of  Mealth  and  the  selfishness  of  fashion,  two 
things  that  First  Church  never  heard  rebuked  this  way 
before,  and  there  was  a  love  of  his  people  that  gathered 
new  force  as  the  sermon  went  on.  When  it  was  finished 
there  were  those  who  were  saying  in  their  hearts,  "The 
Spirit  moved  that  sermon. "    And  they  were  right. 

Then  Rachel  Winslow  rose  to  sing.  This  time,  after  the 
sermon,  by  Henry  Maxwell's  request.  Rachel's  singing  did 
not  provoke  applause  this  time.  What  deeper  feeling  car- 
ried people's  hearts  into  a  reverent  silence  and  tenderness 
of  thought?  Rachel  was  beautiful.  But  the  consciousness 
of  her  remarkable  loveliness  had  always  marred  her  sing- 


44  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

ing  with  those  who  had  the  deepest  spiritual  feeling.  It 
had  also  marred  her  rendering  of  certain  kinds  of  music 
with  herself.  To-day  this  was  all  gone.  There  was  no 
lack  of  power  in  her  grand  voice.  But  there  was  an  actual 
added  element  of  humility  and  purity  which  the  audience 
strictly  felt  and  bowed  to. 

Before  the  service  closed,  Henry  Maxwell  asked  those 
who  had  remained  the  week  before  to  stay  again  for 
a  few  moments  for  consultation,  and  anj'  others  who  were 
willing  to  make  the  pledge  taken  at  that  time.  When  he 
was  at  liberty  he  went  into  the  lecture  room.  To  his  aston- 
ishment it  was  almost  filled.  This  time  a  large  proportion 
of  young  people  had  come.  But  among  them  were  a  few 
business  men  and  officers  of  the  church. 

As  before,  Henry  Maxwell  asked  them  to  pray  with 
him.  And  as  before  a  distinct  answer  came  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Divine  Spirit.  There  was  no  doubt  in  the  minds 
of  any  one  present  that  what  they  proposed  to  do  was  so 
clearly  in  line  with  the  divine  will,  that  a  blessing  rested 
on  it  in  a  very  special  manner. 

They  remained  some  time  to  ask  questions  and  consult 
together.  There  was  a  feeling  of  fellowship  such  as  they 
had  never  known  in  their  church  membership.  Edward 
Norman's  action  was  well  understood  by  them  all,  and  he 
answered  several  questions. 

"What  will  be  the  probable  result  of  your  discontin- 
uance of  the  Sunday  paper?"  asked  Alexander  Powers  who 
sat  next  to  him. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  I  presume  it  will  result  in  a  falling 
off  of  subscriptions  and  advertisements.    I  anticipate  that." 

"Do  you  have  any  doubts  about  your  action?    I  mean  do 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  45 

you  regret  it  or  fear  it  is  not  what  Jesus  would  do?"  aslied 
Henry  Maxwell. 

"Not  in  the  least.  But  I  would  lilie  to  asli  for  my  own 
satisfaction,  if  any  one  of  you  here  thinlis  Jesus  would 
issue  a  Sunday  morning  paper?" 

No  one  spoke  for  a  minute.  Then  Jasper  Chase  said, 
"We  seem  to  think  alike  on  that,  but  I  have  been  puzzled 
several  times  during  the  week  to  know  just  what  He  would 
do.    It  is  not  always  an  easy  question  to  answer." 

"I  find  that  trouble,"  said  Virginia  Page.  She  sat  by 
Rachel  Winslow.  Every  one  who  knew  Virginia  Page  was 
wondering  how  she  would  succeed  in  keeping  her  promise 

"I  think  perhaps  I  find  it  specially  difficult  to  answer 
the  question  on  account  of  my  money.  Jesus  never  owned 
any  property,  and  there  Is  nothing  in  his  example  to  guide 
me  in  the  use  of  mine.  I  am  studying  and  praying.  I 
think  I  see  clearly  a  part  of  what  He  would  do,  but  not 
all.  'What  would  Jesus  do  with  a  million  dollars?'  is  my 
question  really.  I  confess  that  I  am  not  yet  able  to  answer 
it  to  my  satisfaction." 

"I  could  tell  you  what  to  do  with  a  part  of  it,"  said 
Rachel,  turning  her  face  towards  Virginia. 

"That  does  not  trouble  me,"  replied  Virginia  with  a 
slight  smile.  "What  I  am  trying  to  discover  is  a  principle 
of  Jesus  that  will  enable  me  to  come  the  nearest  possible 
to  His  action  as  it  ought  to  influence  the  entire  course  of 
my  life  so  far  as  my  wealth  and  its  use  are  concerned." 

"That  will  take  time,"  said  Henry  Maxwell  slowly.  All 
the  rest  in  the  room  were  thinking  hard  of  the  same  thing. 
Milton  Wright  told  something  of  his  experience.  He  was 
gradually  working  out  a  plan  for  his  business  relations 
with  his  employes  and  it  was  opening  up  a  new  world  to 


46  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

him  and  them.  A  few  of  the  younger  men  told  of  special 
attempts  to  answer  the  question.  There  was  almost  gen- 
eral consent  over  the  fact  that  the  application  of  the  Jesus 
spirit  and  practice  to  every  day  life  was  the  serious  thing. 
It  required  a  knowledge  of  Him  and  an  insight  into  His 
motives  that  most  of  them  did  not  yet  possess. 

When  they  finally  adjourned  after  a  silent  prayer  that 
marked  with  growing  power  the  Divine  Presence,  they 
went  away  discussing  earnestly  their  difficulties  and  seek- 
ing light  from  one  another. 

Rachel  Winslow  and  Virginia  Page  went  out  together. 
Edward  Norman  and  Milton  Wright  became  so  interested 
in  their  mutual  conference  that  they  walked  on  past  Nor- 
man's home  and  came  back  together.  Jasper  Chase  and 
the  President  of  the  Endeavor  Society  stood  talking  earn- 
estly in  one  corner  of  the  room.  Alexander  Powers  and 
Henry  Maxwell  remained  even  after  all  the  others  had 
gone. 

"I  want  you  to  come  down  to  the  shops  to-morrow  and 
see  my  plan  and  talk  to  the  men.  Somehow  I  feel  as  if 
you  could  get  nearer  to  them  than  any  one  else  just  now." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  but  I  will  come,"  replied 
Henry  Maxwell  a  little  sadly.  How  was  he  fitted  ^o  stand 
before  two  or  three  hundred  working  men  and  give  them 
a  message?  Yet  in  the  moment  of  his  weakness,  as  he 
asked  the  question,  he  rebuked  himself  for  it.  What  would 
Jesus  do?    That  was  an  end  to  the  discussion. 

He  went  down  the  next  day  and  found  Alexander  Pow- 
ers in  his  office.  It  lacked  a  few  minutes  of  twelve  and  the 
Superintendent  said,  "Come  up  stairs,  and  I'll  show  you 
what  I've  been  trying  to  do." 

T»hey  went  through  the  machine  shops,  climbed  a  long 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  47 

flight  of  stairs  and  entered  a  very  large  cmptj'  room.  It 
had  once  been  used  by  the  company  for  a  store  room. 

"Since  making  that  promise  a  week  ago  I  have  had  a 
good  many  things  to  think  of,"  said  the  Superintendent, 
"and  among  them  is  this:  Our  company  gives  me  the  use 
of  this  room  and  I  am  going  to  fit  it  up  with  tables  and  a 
colfee  plant  in  the  corner  there  where  those  steam  pipes 
are.  My  plan  is  to  provide  a  good  place  where  the  men 
can  come  up  and  eat  their  noon  lunch  and  give  them,  two 
or  three  times  a  week,  the  privilege  of  a  fifteen  minutes' 
talk  on  some  subject  that  will  be  a  real  help  to  them  in 
their  lives." 

Maxwell  looked  surprised  and  asked  if  the  men  would 
come  for  any  such  purpose. 

"Yes,  they'll  come.  After  all,  I  know  the  men  pretty 
well.  They  are  among  the  most  intelligent  working  men 
in  the  country  to-day.  But  they  are  as  a  whole,  entirely 
removed  from  all  church  influence.  I  asked,  'What  would 
Jesus  do?'  And  among  other  things  it  seemed  to  me  He 
would  begin  to  act  in  some  way  to  add  to  the  lives  of  these 
men  more  physical  and  spiritual  comfort.  It  is  a  very  lit- 
tle thing,  this  room  and  what  it  represents,  but  I  acted 
on  the  first  impulse  to  do  the  first  thing  that  appealed  to 
my  good  sense  and  I  want  to  work  out  this  idea.  I  want 
you  to  speak  to  the  men  when  they  come  up  at  noon.  I 
have  asked  them  to  come  up  and  see  the  place  and  I'll  tell 
them  something  about  it." 

Henry  Maxwell  was  ashamed  to  say  how  uneasy  he 
felt  at  being  asked  to  speak  a  few  words  to  a  company 
of  working  men.  How  could  he  speak  without  notes,  or 
to  such  a  crowd?  He  was  honestly  in  a  condition  of  gen- 
uine fright  over  the  prospect.      He  actually  felt  afraid  of 


48  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

facing  these  men.  He  shrank  from  the  ordeal  of  confront- 
ing such  a  crowd,  so  different  from  the  Sunday  audiences 
he  was  familiar  with. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  long  rude  tables  and  benches 
in  the  great  room,  and  when  the  noon  whistle  sounded  the 
men  poured  up  stairs  from  the  machine  shop  below  and 
seating  themselves  at  the  tables  began  to  eat  their  lunch. 
There  were  perhaps  three  hundred  of  them.  They  had 
read  the  Superintendent's  notice  which  he  had  posted  up 
in  various  places,  and  came  largely  out  of  curiosity. 

They  were  favorably  impressed.  The  room  was  large 
and  airy,  free  from  smoke  and  dust  and  well  warmed  from 
the  steam  pipes. 

About  twenty  minutes  of  one,  Alexander  Powers  told 
the  men  what  he  had  in  mind.  He  spoke  very  simply,  like 
one  who  understands  thoroughly  the  character  of  his  audi- 
ence, and  then  introduced  the  Rev.  Henry  Maxwell  of  the 
First  Church,  his  pastor,  who  had  consented  to  speak  a  few 
minutes. 

Henry  Maxwell  will  never  forget  the  feelings  with 
which  for  the  first  time  he  confronted  that  grimy-faced 
audience  of  working  men.  Like  hundreds  of  other  minis- 
ters he  had  never  spoken  to  any  gathering  except  those 
made  up  of  people  of  his  own  class  in  the  sense  that  they 
were  familiar,  in  their  dress  and  education  and  habits,  to 
him.  This  was  a  new  world  to  him,  and  nothing  but  his 
new  rule  of  conduct  could  have  made  possible  his  message 
and  its  effect.  He  spoke  on  the  subject  of  satisfaction  with 
life;  what  caused  it;  what  its  real  sources  were.  He  had 
the  great  good  sense  on  this  first  appearance  not  to  recog- 
nize the  men  as  a  class  distinct  from  himself.      He  did  not 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  49 

use  the  term  "working  men,"  and  did  not  say  a  word  to 
suggest  any  difference  between  tlieir  lives  and  bis  own. 

The  men  were  pleased.  A  good  many  of  them  shook 
hands  with  him  before  going  down  to  their  work,  and 
Henry  Maxwell  telling  it  all  to  his  wife  when  he  reached 
home,  said  that  never  in  all  his  life  had  he  known  the 
delight  he  then  felt  in  having  a  hand-shake  from  a  man  of 
physical  labor.  The  day  marked  an  important  one  in  his 
Christian  experience,  more  important  than  he  knew.  It 
was  the  beginning  of  a  fellowship  between  him  and  the 
working  world.  It  was  the  first  plank  laid  down  to  help 
bridge  the  chasm  between  the  church  and  labor  in  Ray 
mond. 

Alexander  Powers  went  back  to  his  desk  that  afternoon 
much  pleased  with  his  plan  and  seeing  much  help  in  it  for 
the  men.  He  knew  where  he  could  get  some  good  tables 
from  an  abandoned  eating  house  at  one  of  the  stations 
down  the  road,  and  he  saw^  how  the  coffee  arrangement 
could  be  made  a  very  attractive  feature.  The  men  had 
responded  even  better  than  he  anticipated  and  the  w^hole 
thing  could  not  help  being  a  great  benefit  to  them. 

He  took  up  the  routine  of  his  work  with  a  glow  of  satis- 
faction. After  all,  he  wanted  to  do  as  Jesus  would,  he  said 
to  himself. 

It  was  nearly  four  o'clock  when  he  opened  one  of  the 
compnuy's  long  envelopes  which  he  supposed  contained 
orders  for  the  purchasing  of  stores.  He  ran  over  the  first 
page  of  type-written  matter  in  his  usual  quick,  business- 
like manner  before  he  saw  that  he  was  reading  what  was 
not  intended  for  his  office  but  for  the  Superintendent  of  the 
Freight  Department. 

He  turned  ovier  a  pa®e  mechanically,  not  meaning  to 


50  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

read  what  was  not  addressed  to  him,  but.  before  he  knew 
it,  he  was  in  possession  of  evidence  which  conclusively 
proved  that  the  company  was  engaged  in  a  systematic  vio- 
lation of  the  Interstate  Commerce  Laws  of  the  United 
States.  It  was  as  distinct  and  unequivocal  breaking  of 
law  as  if  a  private  citizen  should  enter  a  house  and  rob 
the  inmates.  The  discrimination  shown  in  rebates  was  in 
total  contempt  of  all  the  statute.  Under  the  laws  of  the 
state  it  was  also  a  distinct  violation  of  certain  provisions 
recently  passed  bj^  the  legislature  to  prevent  railroad  trusts. 
There  was  no  question  that  he  held  in  his  hand  evidence 
sufficient  to  convict  the  company  of  willful,  intelligent  viola- 
tion of  the  law  of  the  Commission  and  the  law  of  the  state 
also. 

He  dropped  the  papers  on  his  desk  as  if  they  were 
poison,  and  instantly  the  question  flashed  across  his  mind, 
"What  would  Jesus  do?"  He  tried  to  shut  the  question  out. 
He  tried  to  reason  with  himself  by  saying  it  was  none  of  his 
business.  He  had  supposed  in  a  more  or  less  indefinite 
way  as  did  nearlv  all  of  the  officers  of  the  Company,  that 
this  had  been  going  on  right  along  in  nearly  all  the  roads. 
He  was  not  in  a  position,  owing  to  his  place  in  the  shops, 
to  prove  anything  direct,  and  he  had  regarded  it  all  as  a 
matter  which  did  not  concern  him  at  all.  The  papers  now 
before  him  revealed  the  entire  affair.  They  had  through 
some  carelessness  in  the  address  come  into  his  hands. 
What  business  of  his  was  it?  If  he  saw  a  man  entering 
his  neighbor's  house  to  steal  would  it  not  be  his  duty  to 
inform  the  officers  of  the  law?  Was  a  railroad  company 
such  a  different  thing,  was  it  under  a  different  rule  of 
conduct  so  that  it  could  rob  the  public  and  defy  law 
and  be  undisturbed  because  it  was  such  a  gi-eat  organiza- 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  51 

tion?  What  would  Jesus  do?  Then  there  was  his  family. 
Of  course  if  he  took  anj^  steps  to  inform  the  Commission  it 
would  mean  the  loss  of  his  position.  His  wife  and  daugh- 
ters had  always  enjoyed  luxury  and  a  good  place  in  society. 
If  he  came  out  against  this  lawlessness  as  a  witness  it 
would  drag  him  into  courts,  his  motives  would  be  misun- 
derstoof"*  and  the  whole  thing  would  end  in  his  disgrace 
and  the  loss  of  his  position  Surely,  it  was  none  of  his 
business.  He  could  easily  get  the  papers  back  to  the 
Freight  Department  and  no  one  be  the  wiser.  Let  the  iniquity 
go  on.  Let  the  law  be  defied.  What  was  it  to  him?  He 
would  work  out  his  plans  for  bettering  the  conditions  just 
about  him.  What  more  could  a  man  do  in  this  railroad 
business  where  there  was  so  much  going  on  any  way  that 
made  it  impossible  to  live  by  the  Christian  standard?  But 
what  would  Jesus  do  if  He  knew  the  facts?  That  was  the 
question  that  confronted  Alexander  Powers  as  the  day 
wore  into  evening. 

The  lights  in  the  office  had  been  turned  on.  The  whir  of 
the  great  engine  and  the  crash  of  the  planer  in  the  big  shop 
continued  until  six  o'clock. 

Then  the  whistle  blew,  the  engines  slowed  down,  the 
men  dropped  their  tools  and  ran  for  the  block  house. 

Alexander  Powers  heard  the  familiar  click,  click,  of  the 
blocks  as  the  men  filed  passed  the  window  of  the  block 
house  just  outside.  He  said  to  his  clerks,  "I'm  not  going 
just  yet.  I  have  something  extra  to-night."  He  waited 
until  he  heard  the  last  man  deposit  his  block.  The  men 
behind  the  block  case  went  out.  The  engineer  and  his 
assistants  had  work  for  half  an  hour,  but  they  went  out 
at  another  door. 

At  seven  o'clock  that  evening  any  one  who  had  looked 


52  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

into  the  Superintendent's  office  would  have  seen  an  unusual 
sight.  He  was  kneeling  down  and  his  face  was  buried  in 
his  hands  as  he  bowed  his  head  upon  the  papers  on  his 
desk. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

"If  any  iiiau  cometh  unto.meand  hatetli  not  his  own  father  and 
mother  and  wife  and  children  and  brethren  and  sisters,  yea,  and 
liis  own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple."  *  *  *  "And  who- 
soever forsaketh  not  all  that  he  hath,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple." 

When  Rachel  Winslow  and  Virginia  Page  separated 
after  the  meeting  at  the  First  Church  on  Sunday,  they 
agreed  to  continue  their  conversation  the  next  day.  Vir- 
ginia asked  Rachel  to  come  and  lunch  with  her  at  noon, 
and  Rachel  accordingly  rang  the  bell  at  the  Page  mansion 
about  half  past  eleven,  Virginia  herself  met  her  and  the 
two  v\'ere  soon  talking  earnestly. 

"The  fact  is,"  Rachel  was  saying,  after  they  had  been 
talking  a  few  minutes,  "I  cannot  reconcile  it  with  my  judg- 
ment of  what  He  would  do.  I  cannot  tell  another  person 
what  to  do,  but  I  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  accept  this  offer." 

"What  will  you  do,  then?"  asked  Virginia  with  great 
interest. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  But  I  have  decided  to  refuse  this 
offer." 

Rachel  picked  up  a  letter  that  had  been  lying  in  her 
lap  and  ran  over  its  contents  agam.  It  was  a  letter  from 
the  manager  of  a  comic  opera  offering  her  a  place  with  a 
large  traveling  company  for  the  season.  The  salary  was 
a  very  large  figure,  and  the  prospect  held  out  by  the  mana- 
ger was  flattering.  He  had  heard  Rachel  sing  that  Sun- 
day morning  when  the  stranger  had  interrupted  the  serv- 
ice.     He  had  been  much  impressed.      There  was  money 


54  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

in  that  voice  and  it  ought  to  be  used  in  comic  opera,  so 
said  the  letter,  and  the  manager  wanted  a  reply  as  soon  as 
possible. 

"There's  no  virtue  in  saying  No  to  this  offer  when  I 
have  the  other  one,"  Rachel  went  on  thoughtfully.  "That's 
harder  to  decide.  But  I've  about  made  up  my  mind.  To 
tell  the  truth,  Virginia,  I'm  completely  convinced  in  the 
first  case  that  .Jesus  would  never  use  any  talent  like  a  good 
voice  just  to  make  money.  But  now  take  this  concert 
offer.  Here  is  a  reputable  company  to  travel  with  an 
impersonator  and  a  violinist  and  a  male  quartette.  All 
people  of  good  reputation.  I'm  asked  to  go  as  one  of  the 
company  and  sing  leading  soprano.  The  salary— I  men- 
tioned it,  didn't  I?— is  to  be  guaranteed  two  hundred  dollars 
a  month  for  the  season.  But  I  don't  feel  satisfied  that 
Jesus  would  go.    What  do  you  think?" 

"You  mustn't  ask  me  to  decide  for  you,"  replied  Vir- 
ginia with  a  sad  smile.  "I  believe  Mr.  Maxwell  was  right 
when  he  said  we  must  each  one  of  us  decide  according  to 
the  judgment  we  felt  for  ourselves  to  be  Christlike.  I  am 
having  a  harder  time  than  you  are,  dear,  to  decide  what  He 
would  do." 

"Are  you?"  Rachel  asked.  She  rose  and  walked  over 
to  the  window  and  looked  out.  Virginia  came  and  stood 
by  her.  The  street  was  crowded  with  life  and  the  two 
young  women  looked  at  it  silently  for  a  moment.  Suddenly 
Virginia  broke  out  as  Rachel  had  never  heard  her  before. 

"Rachel,  what  does  all  this  contrast  in  conditions  mean 
to  you  as  you  ask  this  question  of  what  Jesus  would  do? 
It  maddens  me  to  think  that  the  society  in  which  I  have 
been  brought  up,  the  same  to  which  we  are  both  said  to 
belong,  is  satisfied  year  after  year  to  go  on  dressing  and 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  55 

eating  and  having  a  good  time,  giving  and  receiving  enter- 
tainments, spending  its  money  on  liouses  and  luxuries  and, 
occasionally,  to  ease  its  conscience,  donating,  witliout  any 
personal  sacrifice,  a  little  money  to  charity.  I  have  been 
educated,  as  yo.u  have,  in  one  of  the  most  expensive  schools 
of  America.  Launched  into  society  as  an  heiress.  Sup- 
posed to  be  in  a  very  enviable  position.  I'm  perfectly  well, 
I  can  travel  or  stay  at  home.  I  can  do  as  I  please.  I  can 
gratify  almost  any  want  or  desire  and  yet,  when  I  honestly 
try  to  imagine  Jesus  living  the  life  I  have  lived  and  am 
expected  to  live,  and  doing  for  the  rest  of  my  life  what 
thousands  of  other  rich  people  do, I  am  under  condemna- 
tion for  being  one  of  the  most  wicked,  selfish,  useless  crea- 
tures in  the  world.  I  have  not  loolvcd  out  of  this  window 
for  weeks  without  a  feeling  of  horror  towards  myself  as  I 
see  the  humanity  that  pours  by  this  house." 

Virginia  turned  away  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room.  Rachel  watched  her  and  could  not  repress  the  ris- 
ing tide  of  her  own  growing  definition  of  discipleship. 
Of  what  Christian  use  was  her  own  talent  of  song?  Was 
Ihe  best  she  could  do  to  sell  her  talent  for  so  much  a  month, 
go  on  a  concert  company's  tour,  dress  beautifully,  enjoy 
the  excitement  of  public  applause  and  gain  a  reputation 
as  a  great  singer?  Was  that  what  Jesus  would  do? 

She  was  not  morbid.  She  was  in  sound  health,  was 
conscious  of  great  powers  as  a  singer,  and  knew  that  if 
she  went  out  into  public  life  she  could  make  a  great  deal 
of  money  and  become  well  known.  It  is  doubtful  if  she 
overestimated  her  ability  to  accomplish  all  she  thought  her- 
self capable  of.  And  Virginia— what  she  had  just  said 
smote  Rachel  with  great  force  because  of  the  similar  posi- 
tion in  which  the  two  friends  found  themselves. 


56  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Lunch  was  announced  and  they  went  out  and  were 
joined  by  Virginia's  grandmother,  Madam  Page,  a  hand- 
some, stately  ^Yoman  of  sixty-five,  and  Virginia's  brother, 
Rollin,  a  young  man  who  spent  most  of  his  time  at  one  of 
the  clubs  and  had  no  jDarticular  ambition  for  anything,  but 
a  growing  admiration  for  Rachel  Winslow,'  and  whenever 
she  dined  or  lunched  at  the  Page  mansion,  if  he  knew  of 
it,  he  always  planned  to  be  at  home. 

These  three  made  up  the  Page  family.  Virginia's  father 
had  been  a  banlier  and  grain  speculator.  Her  mother  had 
died  ten  years  before.  Her  father  within  the  past  year. 
The  grandmother,  a  Southern  woman  in  birth  and  train- 
ing, had  all  the  traditions  and  feelings  that  accompany  the 
possession  of  wealth  and  social  standing  that  have  never 
been  disturbed.  She  was  a  shrewd,  careful,  business 
woman  of  more  than  average  ability.  The  family  property 
and  wealth  were  invested,  in  large  measure,  under  her  per- 
sonal care.  Virginia's  portion  was,  without  any  restriction, 
her  own.  She  had  been  trained  by  her  father  to  under- 
stand the  ways  of  the  business  world,  and  even  the  grand- 
mother had  been  compelled  to  acknowledge  the  girl's  capac- 
ity for  taking  care  of  her  own  money. 

Perhaps  two  persons  could  not  be  found  anywhere  less 
capable  of  understanding  a  girl  like  Virginia  than  Madam 
Page  and  Rollin.  Rachel,  who  had  known  the  family 
since  she  was  a  girl  playmate  of  Virginia's,  could  not  help 
thinking  of  what  confronted  Virginia  in  her  own  home 
when  she  once  decided  on  the  course  which  she  honestly 
believed  Jesus  would  take.  To-day  at  lunch,  as  she  recalled 
Virginia's  outbreak  in  the  front  room,  she  tried  to  picture 
the  scene  that  would  at  some  time  occur  between  Madam 
Page  and  her  granddaughter. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  67 

*'I  understaud  that  you  are  going  on  the  stage,  Miss 
Winslow.  We  shall  all  be  delighted,  I'm  sure,"  said  Rol- 
lin,  during  one  of  the  pauses  in  the  conversation  which  had 
not  been  animated. 

Rachel  colored  and  felt  annoyed. 

"Who  told  you?"  she  asked,  while  Virginia,  who  had 
been  ^'ery  silent  and  reserved  suddenly  roused  herself  and 
appeared  ready  to  join  in  the  talk. 

"Oh!  we  hear  a  thing  or  two  on  the  street.  Besides,  every 
one  saw  Crandall  the  manager  at  church  two  weeks  ago. 
He  doesn't  go  to  church  to  hear  the  preaching.  In  fact  I 
know  other  people  who  don't  either,  not  when  there's  some- 
thing better  to  hear." 

Rachel  did  not  color  this  time,  but  she  answered 
quietly, 

"You're  mistaken.    I'm  not  going  on  the  stage." 

"It's  a  great  pity.  You'd  make  a  hit.  Everybody  is 
talking  about  your  singing." 

This  time  Rachel  flushed  with  genuine  anger. 

Before  she  could  say  anything,  Virginia  broke  in. 

"Whom  do  you  mean  by  'everybody?'  " 

"Whom?  I  mean  all  the  people  who  hear  Miss  Winslow 
on  Sunday.  What  other  time  do  they  hear  her?  It's  a 
great  pity,  I  say,  that  the  general  public  outside  of  Ray- 
mond cannot  hear  her  voice." 

"Let  us  talk  about  something  else,"  said  Rachel  a  lit- 
tle sharply.  Madam  Page  glanced  at  her  and  spoke  with 
a  gentle  courtesy. 

"My  dear,  Rollin  never  could  pay  an  indirect  compli- 
ment. He  is  like  his  father  in  that.  But  we  are  all  curi- 
ous to  know  something  of  your  plans.     We  claim  the  right 


58  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

from  old  acquaintance,  you  know.  And  Virginia  had  already 
told  us  of  your  concert  company  offer." 

"I  supposed  of  course  tliat  was  public  property,"  said 
Virginia,  smiling  across  the  table.  "It  was  in  the  "News" 
yesterday." 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Rachel  hastily.  "I  understand  that, 
Madam  Page.  Well,  Virginia  and  I  have  been  talking 
about  it.  I  have  decided  not  to  accept,  and  that  is  as  far 
as  I  have  gone  yet." 

Rachel  was  conscious  of  the  fact  that  the  conversation 
had,  uj)  to  this  point,  been  narrowing  her  hesitation  concern- 
ing the  company's  offer  down  to  a  decision  that  would  abso- 
lutely satisfy  her  own  judgment  of  Jesus'  probable  action. 
It  had  been  the  last  thing  in  the  world,  however,  that  she 
had  desired  to  have  her  decision  made  in  any  way  so  public 
as  this.  Somehow  what  Rollin  Page  had  said  and  his 
manner  in  saying  it  had  hastened  her  Judgment  in  the  mat- 
ter. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  us,  Rachel,  your  reasons  for 
refusing  the  offer?  It  looks  like  a  good  opportunity  for 
a  young  girl  like  you.  Don't  you  think  the  general  public 
ought  to  hear  you?  I  feel  like  Rollin  about  that.  A  voice 
like  yours  belongs  to  a  larger  audience  than  Raymond  and 
the  First  Church." 

Rachel  Winslow  was  naturally  a  girl  of  great  reserve. 
She  shrank  from  making  her  plans  or  her  thoughts  public. 
But  Avith  all  her  repression  there  was  possible  in  her  an  occa- 
sional sudden  breaking  out  that  was  simply  an  impulsive, 
thoughtful,  frank,  truthful  expression  of  her  most  inner 
personal  feeling.  She  spoke  now  in  reply  to  Madam  Page 
in  one  of  those  rare  moments  of  unreserve  that  added  to 
the  attractiveness  of  her  whole  character. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  59 

"I  have  no  other  reason  than  a  conviction  that  Jesus 
would  do  the  same  thing,"  she  said  looking  in  Madam 
Page's  eyes  with  a  clear  earnest  gaze. 

Madam  Page  turned  red  and  Rollin  stared.  Before  her 
grandmother  could  say  anything,  Virginia  spoke.  Her 
rising  color  showed  how  she  was  stirred.  Virginia's  pale, 
clear  complexion  was  that  of  health,  but  it  was  generally 
in  marked  contrast  to  Rachel's  tropical  type  of  beauty. 

"Grandmother,  j'ou  know  we  promised  to  make  that  the 
standard  of  our  conduct  for  a  year.  Mr.  Maxwell's  propo- 
sition was  plain  to  all  who  heard  it.  We  have  not  been 
able  to  arrive  at  our  decisions  very  rapidly.  The  difficulty 
in  knowing  what  Jesus  would  do  has  perplexed  Rachel  and 
me  a  good  deal." 

Madam  Page  looked  sharplj-  at  Virginia  before  she  said 
anything. 

"Of  course,  I  understand  Mr.  Maxwell's  statement.  It 
is  perfectly  impracticable  to  put  it  into  practice.  I  felt  con- 
fident at  the  time  that  those  who  promised  would  find  it 
out  after  a  trial  and  abandon  it  as  visionary  and  absurd. 
I  have  nothing  to  say  about  Miss  Winslow's  affairs,  but—" 
(she  paused  and  continued  with  a  sharpness  that  was  new 
to  Rachel,)  "I  hope  you  have  no  foolish  notions  in  this  mat- 
ter, Virginia." 

"I  have  a  great  many  notions,"  replied  Virginia  quietly. 
"Whether  they  are  foolish  or  not  depends  upon  my  right 
understanding  of  what  He  would  do.  As  soon  as  I  find  out, 
I  shall  do  it." 

"Excuse  me,  ladies,"  said  Rollin  rising  from  the  table. 
"The  conversation  is  getting  beyond  my  depth.  I  shall 
retire  to  the  library  for  a  cigar." 

He  went  out  of  the  dining  room  and  there  was  silence 


60  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

for  a  moment.  Madam  Page  waited  until  the  servant  had 
brought  in  something  and  then  asked  her  to  go  out.  She 
was  angry  and  her  anger  was  formidable,  although  checked 
in  some  measure  by  the  presence  of  RacheL 

"I  am  older  by  several  years  than  you,  young  ladies," 
she  said,  and  her  traditional  type  of  bearing  seemed  to 
Rachel  to  rise  up  like  a  great  frozen  wall  between  her  and 
every  conception  of  Jesus  as  a  sacrifice.  "What  you  have 
promised  in  a  spirit  of  false  emotion,  I  presume,  is  impossi- 
ble of  performance." 

"Do  you  mean,  grandmother,  that  we  cannot  possibly  act 
as  Jesus  would,  or  do  you  mean  that  if  we  try  to,  we 
shall  offend  the  customs  and  prejudices  of  society?"  asked 
Virginia. 

"It  is  not  required!  It  is  not  necessary!  Besides  how 
can  you  act  with  any—" 

Madam  Page  paused,  broke  off  her  sentence,  and  then 
turned  to  Rachel. 

"What  will  your  mother  say  to  your  decision?  My  dear, 
is  it  not  foolish?  What  do  you  expect  to  do  with  your 
voice,  any  way?" 

"1  don't  know  what  mother  will  say  yet,"  Rachel 
answered,  with  a  great  shrinking  from  trying  to  give  her 
mother's  probable  answer.  If  there  was  a  woman  In  all 
Raymond  with  great  ambitions  for  her  daughter's  success 
as  a  singer.  Mrs.  Winslow  was  that  woman. 

"O  you  will  see  it  in  a  different  light  after  wise  thought 
of  it.  My  dear,"  continued  Madam  Page  rising  from  the 
table,  "you  will  live  to  regret  It  If  you  do  not  accept  the 
concert  company's  offer  or  something  like  it." 

Rachel  said  something  that  contained  a  hint  of  the 
struggle  she  "was  still  having.    And  after  a  little  she  went 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  61 

away,  feeling  that  her  departure  was  to  be  followed  by  a 
painful  conversation  betweenVirginia  and  her  grandmother. 
As  she  afterward  learned  Virginia  passed  through  a  crisis 
of  feeling  during  that  scene  with  her  grandmother  that  has- 
tened her  final  decision  as  to  the  use  of  her  money  and  her 
social  position. 

Rachel  was  glad  to  escape  and  be  by  herself.  A  plan 
was  slowly  forming  in  her  mind  and  she  wanted  to  be 
alone  to  think  it  out  carefully.  But  before  she  had  walked 
two  blocks  she  was  annoyed  to  find  Rollin  Page  walking 
beside  her. 

"Sorry  to  disturb  your  thought,  Miss  Winslow,  but  I 
happened  to  be  going  your  way  and  had  an  idea  you  might 
not  object.  In  fact  I've  been  walking  here  for  a  whole 
block  and  you  haven't  objected." 

"I  did  not  see  you,"  replied  Rachel. 

"I  wouldn't  mind  that  if  you  only  thought  of  me  once 
in  a  while,"  said  Rollin  suddenly.  He  took  one  last 
nervous  puff  of  his  cigar,  tossed  it  into  the  street  and 
Avalked  along  with  a  pale  face. 

Rachel  was  surprised  but  not  startled.  She  had  known 
Rollin  as  a  boy,  and  there  had  been  a  time  when  they  had 
used  each  other's  first  names  familiarly.  Lately,  however, 
something  in  Rachel's  manner  had  put  an  end  to  that.  She 
was  used  to  his  direct  attempts  at  compliment  and  was 
sometimes  amused  by  them.  To-day  she  honestly  wished 
him  anywhere  else. 

"Do  you  ever  think  of  me,  Miss  Winslow?"  asked  Rol- 
lin after  a  pause. 

"Oh,  yes,  quite  often  I"  said  Rachel  with  a  smile. 

"Are  you  thinking  of  me  now?" 

"Yes,  that  is— yes,  I  am." 


62  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"What?" 

"Do  you  want  me  to  be  absolutely  truthful?'- 

"Of  course." 

"Then  I  was  thinking  that  I  wished  you  were  not 
here." 

Kollin  bit  his  lip  and  looked  gloomy.  Rachel  had  not 
spoken  anything  as  he  wished. 

"Now  look  here,  Rachel— Oh,  I  know  that's  forbidcfen, 
but  I've  got  to  speak  sometime;  you  know  how  I  feel.  What 
makes  you  treat  me  so  hard?  You  used  to  like  me  a  little, 
you  know." 

"Did  1?  Of  course  we  used  to  get  on  very  well  as  boy 
and  girl.     But  we  are  older  now." 

Rachel  still  spoke  in  the  light,  easy  way  she  had  used 
since  her  first  annoyance  at  seeing  him.  She  was  still 
somewhat  p^-eoccupied  with  her  plan  which  had  been  dis- 
turbed by  Rollin's  appearance. 

They  walked  along  in  silence  a  little  way.  The  avenue 
was  full  of  people.  Among  the  persons  passing  was  Jas- 
per Chase.  He  saw  Rachel  and  Rollin  and  bowed  as  he 
went  by.    Rollin  was  watching  Rachel  closely. 

"I  wish  I  were  Jasper  Chase;  maybe  I'd  stand  some 
show  then,'"  he  said  moodily. 

Rachel  colored  in  spite  of  herself.  She  did  not  say  any- 
thing, and  quickened  her  pace  a  little.  Rollin  seemed  deter- 
mined to  say  something  and  Rachel  seemed  helpless  to  pre- 
vent him.  After  all,  she  thought,  he  might  as  well  know 
the  truth  one  time  as  another. 

"You  know  well  enough,  Rachel,  how  I  feel  towards 
you.  Isn't  there  any  hope?  I  could  make  you  happy.  I've 
loved  you  a  good  many  years—" 

"Why,  how  old  do  you  think  I  am?"  broke  in  Rachel 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  68 

with  a  nervous  laugh.    She  was  shaken  out  of  her  usual 
poise  of  manner. 

"You  linow  what  I  mean,"  went  on  Rollin  doggedly. 
"And  you  have  no  right  to  laugh  at  me  just  because  I  want 
you  to  marry  me." 

"I'm  not!  But  it  is  useless  for  you  to  speak,— Rollin," 
said  Rachel  after  a  little  hesitation,  and  then  using  his  name 
in  such  a  frank,  simple  way  that  he  could  attach  no  mean- 
ing to  it  beyond  the  familiarity  of  the  family  acquaintance. 
"It  is  impossible."  She  was  still  a  little  agitated  by  the 
fact  of  receiving  a  proposal  of  marriage  on  the  avenue. 
But  the  noise  on  the  street  and  sidewalk  made  the  conver- 
sation as  private  as  if  they  were  in  the  house. 

"Would  you—that  is~do  you  think— if  you  gave  me 
time  I  would—" 

"Nc!"  said  Rachel.  She  spoke  firmly;  perhaps,  she 
thought  afterwards,  although  she  did  not  mean  to,  she 
spoke  harshly. 

They  walked  on  for  some  time  without  a  word.  They 
were  Hearing  Rachel's  home  and  she  was  anxious  to  end 
the  scene. 

As  they  turned  off  the  avenue  into  one  of  the  quiet 
streets,  Rollin  spoke  suddenly  and  with  more  manliness 
than  he  had  yet  shown.  There  was  a  distinct  note  of  dig- 
nity in  his  voice  that  was  new  to  Rachel. 

"J^Iiss  Winslow,  I  ask  you  to  be  my  wife.  Is  there  any 
hope  for  me  that  you  will  ever  consent?" 

"None  in  the  least."    Rachel  spoke  decidedly. 
"Will  you  tell  me  why?"    He  asked  the  question  as  if 
he  had  a  right  to  a  truthful  answer. 

"I  do  not  feel  towards  you  as  a  woman  ought  to  feel 
towards  the  man  she  ought  to  marry." 


64  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"In  other  words  you  do  not  love  me?" 

"I  do  not.    And  I  cannot." 

"Why?"  That  was  another  question  and  Rachel  was 
a  little  surprised  that  he  should  ask  it." 

"Because—"  she  hesitated  for  fear  she  might  say  too 
much  in  an  attempt  to  speak  the  exact  truth. 

"Tell  me  just  why.  You  can't  hurt  me  more  than  you 
have  already." 

"Well,  I  don't  and  can't  love  you  because  you  have  no 
purpose  in  life.  W^hat  do  you  ever  do  to  make  the  world 
better?  You  spend  your  time  in  club  life,  in  amusements, 
in  travel,  in  luxury.  What  is  there  in  such  a  life  to  attract 
a  woman?" 

"Not  much,  I  guess,"  said  Rollin  with  a  little  laugh. 
"Still,  I  don't  know  as  I  am  any  worse  than  the  rest  of  the 
men  around  me.  I'm  not  so  bad  as  some.  Glad  to  know 
your  reason." 

He  suddenly  stopped,  took  off  his  hat,  bowed  gravely 
and  turned  back.  Rachel  went  on  home  and  hurried  into 
her  room,  disturbed  in  many  ways  by  the  event  which  had 
so  unexpectedly  thrust  itself  into  her  experience. 

When  she  had  time  to  think  it  all  over,  she  found  her- 
self condemned  by  the  very  judgment  she  had  passed  on 
Rollin  Page.  What  purpose  had  she  in  life?  She  had 
been  abroad  and  studied  music  with  one  of  the  famous 
teachers  of  Europe.  She  had  come  home  to  Raymond 
and  had  been  singing  in  the  First  Church  choir  now 
for  a  year.  She  was  well  paid.  Up  to  that  Sunday  two 
weeks  ago,  she  had  been  quite  satisfied  with  herself  and 
her  position.  She  had  shared  her  mother's  ambition,  and 
anticipated  growing  triumphs  in  the  musical  world.    What 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DOV"  65 

possible  career  was  before  her  except  the  regular  career 
of  every  singer? 

She  asked  the  questiou  again  and,  in  the  light  of  her 
recent  reply  to  Rollin,  asked  again  if  she  had  any  very  great 
purpose  in  life  herself?  What  would  Jesus  do?  There  was 
a  fortune  in  her  voice.  She  knew  it,  not  necessarily  as  a 
matter  of  personal  pride  or  professional  egotism  but  sim- 
ply as  a  fact.  And  she  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that 
until  two  weeks  ago  she  had  purposed  to  use  her  voice 
to  make  money  and  win  admiration  and  applause.  Was 
that  a  much  higher  purpose  after  all,  than  Rollin  Page 
lived  for? 

She  sat  in  her  room  a  long  time  and  finally  went  down 
stairs,  resolved  to  have  a  frank  talk  vv'lth  her  mother  about 
the  concert  company's  offer  and  her  new  plan  which  was 
gradually  shaping  in  her  mind.  She  had  already  had  one 
talk  with  her  mother  and  knew  that  she  expected  Rachel 
to  accept  the  offer  and  enter  on  a  successful  career  as  a 
public  singer. 

"Mother,"  Rachel  said,  coming  at  once  to  the  point,  as 
much  as  she  dreaded  the  interview,  "I  have  decided  not  to 
go  out  with  the  company.    I  have  a  good  reason  for  it." 

Mrs.  Winslow  was  a  large,  handsome  woman,  fond  of 
much  company,  ambitious  for  a  distinct  place  in  society, 
and  devoted,  according  to  her  definitions  of  success,  to  the 
success  of  her  children.  Her  youngest  boy,  Lewis,  ten 
years  j'ounger  than  Rachel,  was  ready  to  graduate  from  a 
military  academy  in  the  summer.  Meanwhile  she  and 
Rachel  were  at  home  together.  Rachel's  father,  like  Vir- 
ginia's had  died  while  the  family  were  abroad.  Like  Vir- 
ginia she  found  herself,  under  her  present  rule  of  conduct, 
in  complete  antagonism  -^ith  her  own  immediate  home  circle. 


66  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Mrs.  Winslow  waited  for  Rachel  to  go  on, 
"You    know    the   promise   I    made   two    weeks   ago, 
mother?" 

"Mr.  Maxwell's  promise?" 
"No,  mine.  You  know  what  it  was,  mother?" 
"I  suppose  I  do.  Of  course  all  the  church  members 
mean  to  imitate  Christ  and  follow  him  as  far  as  is  con- 
sistent with  our  present  day  surroundings.  But  what  has 
that  to  do  with  your  decision  in  the  concert  company's  mat- 
ter?" 

"It  has  everything  to  do  with  it.  After  asking,  'What 
would  Jesus  do?'  and  going  to  the  source  of  authority  for 
wisdom,  I  have  been  obliged  to  say  that  I  do  not  believe 
He  would,  in  my  case,  make  that  use  of  my  voice." 

"Why?    Is  there  anything  wrong  about  such  a  career?" 
"No,  I  don't  know  that  I  can  say  there  is." 
"Do  you  presume  to  sit  in  judgment  on  other  people 
who  go  out  to  sing  in  this  way?    Do  you  presume  to  say 
that  they  are  doing  what  Christ  would  not  do?" 

"Mother,  I  wish  you  to  understand  me.  .,  I  judge  no  one 
else.  I  condemn  no  other  professional  singers.  I  simply 
decide  my  own  course.  As  I  look  at  it,  I  have  a  conviction 
that  Jesus  would  do  something  else." 

"What  else?"  Mrs.  Winslow  had  not  yet  lost  her  tem- 
per. She  did  not  understand  the  situation,  nor  Rachel  in 
the  midst  of  it,  but  she  was  anxious  that  her  daughter's 
career  should  be  as  distinguished  as  her  natural  gifts 
promised.  And  she  felt  confident  that,  when  the  present 
unusual  religious  excitement  in  the  First  Church  had 
passed  away,  Rachel  would  go  on  with  her  public  life 
according  to  the  wishes  of  the  family.  She  was  totally 
unprepared  for  Rachel's  next  remark. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  67 

"What?  Something  that  will  serve  mankind  where  it 
most  needs  the  service  of  song.  Mother,  I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  use  my  voice  in  some  way  so  as  to  satisfy  my 
own  soul  that  I  am  doing  something  better  than  please 
fashionable  audiences  or  make  money,  or  even  gratify  my 
own  love  of  singing.  I  am  going  to  do  something  that  will 
satisfy  me  when  I  ask,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  And  I  am 
not  satisfied,  and  cannot  be,  when  I  think  of  myself  as  sing- 
ing myself  into  the  career  of  a  concert  company  per- 
former." 

Rachel  spoke  with  a  vigor  and  earnestness  that  sur- 
prised her  mother.  Mrs.  Winslow  was  angry  now.  And 
she  never  tried  to  conceal  her  feelings. 

"It  is  simply  absurd!  Rachel,  you  are  a  fanatic.  What 
can  you  do?" 

"The  world  has  been  served  by  men  and  women  who 
have  given  it  other  things  that  were  gifts.  Why  should  I, 
because  I  am  blessed  with  a  natural  gift  at  once  proceed 
to  put  a  market  price  on  it  and  make  all  the  money  I  can 
out  of«it?  You  know,  mother,  that  you  have  taught  me  to 
think  of  a  musical  career  always  in  the  light  of  a  financial 
and  social  success.  I  have  been  unable,  since  I  made  my 
promise,  two  weeks  ago,  to  imagine  Jesus  joining  a  concert 
company  to  do  what  I  would  do  and  live  the  life  I  would 
have  to  live  if  I  joined  it." 

Mrs.  Winslow  rose  and  then  sat  down  again.  With  a 
great  effort  she  composed  herself. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  then?  You  have  not  answered 
my  question." 

"I  shall  continue  to  sing  for  the  time  being  in  the 
church.    I  am  pledged  to  sing  there  through  spring.    During 


68  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

the  week,  I  am  going  to  sing  at  the  White  Cross  meetings 
down  in  the  Rectangle." 

"What!  Rachel  Winslow!  Do  you  know  what  you  are 
saying?  Do  you  know  what  sort  of  people  those  are  down 
there?" 

Rachel  almost  quailed  before  her  mother.  For  a 
moment  she  shrank  back  and  was  silent. 

"I  know  very  well.  That  is  the  reason  I  am  going. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray  have  been  working  there  several  weeks. 
I  learned  only  this  morning  that  they  wanted  singers  from 
the  churches  to  help  them  in  their  meetings.  They  use  a 
tent.  It  is  in  a  part  of  the  city  where  Christian  work  is 
most  needed.  I  shall  offer  them  my  help.  Mother!"  Rachel 
cried  out  with  the  first  passionate  utterance  she  had  yet 
used,  "I  want  to  do  something  that  will  cost  me  some- 
thing in  the  way  of  sacrifice.  I  know  you  will  not  under* 
stand  me.  But  I  am  hungry  to  suffer  something.  What 
have  we  done  all  our  lives  for  the  suffering,  sinning  side  of 
Raymond?  How  much  have  we  denied  ourselves  or  given 
of  our  personal  ease  and  pleasure  to  bless  the  place  in 
which  we  live  or  imitate  the  life  of  the  Savior  of  the 
world?  Are  we  always  to  go  on  doing  as  society  selfishly 
dictates,  moving  on  its  narrow  little  round  of  pleasures 
and  entertainments  and  never  knowing  the  pain  of  things 
that  cost?" 

*'Are  you  preaching  at  me?"  asked  Mrs.  Winslow  slowly. 
Rachel  understood  her  mother's  words. 

"No,  I  am  preaching  at  myself,"  she  replied  gently. 

She  paused  a  moment  as  if  she  thought  her  mother  woul?! 
say  something  more  and  then  went  out  of  the  room.  When 
she  reached    her    own   room  she  felt  that,  so  far  as  her 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?  69 

mof-er  was  coneernecl,  she  could  expect  do  sympathy  oi" 
eveD  a  fair  understanding  from  her. 

She  kneeled  down.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  within  the 
two  weeks  since  Henry  Maxwell's  church  had  faced  that 
shabby  figure  with  the  faded  hat,  more  members  of  his 
parish  had  been  driven  to  their  knees  in  prayer  than  dur- 
ing all  the  previous  term  of  his  pastorate. 

When  she  rose,  her  beautiful  face  was  wet  with  tears. 
She  sat  thoughtfully 'a  little  while  and  then  wrote  a  note 
to  Virginia  Page.  She  sent  it  to  her  by  a  messenger,  and 
then  went  down  stairs  again  and  told  her  mother  that 
she  and  Virginia  were  going  down  to  the  Rectangle  that 
evening  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray,  the  evangelists. 

"Virginia's  uncle,  Dr.  West,  will  go  with  us  if  she  goes. 
I  have  asked  her  to  call  him  up  by  telephone  and  go  with 
us.  The  Doctor  is  a  friend  of  the  Grays,  and  attended  some 
of  the  meetings  last  winter." 

Mrs.  Winslow  did  not  say  anything.  Her  manner 
showed  her  complete  disapproval  of  Rachel's  course  and 
Rachel  felt  her  unspoken  bitterness. 

About  seven  o'clock  the  Doctor  and  Virginia  appeared, 
and  together  the  three  started  for  the  scene  of  the  White 
Cross  meetings. 

The  Rectangle  was  the  most  notorious  district  in  all 
Raymond.  It  was  in  the  territory  close  by  the  great  Rail- 
road Shops  and  the  packing  houses.  The  slum  and  tene- 
ment district  of  Raymond  congested  its  most  wretched  ele- 
ments about  the  Rectangle.  This  was  a  barren  field  used 
in  the  summer  by  circus  companies  and  wandering  show- 
men. It  was  shut  in  by  rows  of  saloons,  gambling  hells, 
and  cheap,  dirty  boarding  and  lodging  houBes. 

The  First  Church  of  Raymond  had  never  touched  the 


70  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Rectangle  problem.  It  was  too  dirty,  too  coarse,  too  sinful, 
too  awful  for  close  contact.  Let  us  be  honest.  There  had 
been  an  attempt  to  cleanse  this  sore  spot  by  sending  down 
an  occasional  committee  of  singers,  of  Sunday-school  teach- 
ers, or  gospel  visitors  from  various  churches.  But  the 
church  of  Raymond  as  an  institution  had  never  really  done 
anything  to  make  the  Rectangle  any  less  a  stronghold  of 
the  devil  as  the  years  went  by. 

Into  this  heart  of  the  coarse  part  of  the  sin  of  Raymond, 
the  traveling  evangelist  and  his  brave  little  wife  had 
pitched  a  good  sized  tent  and  begun  meetings.  It  was  the 
spring  of  the  year  and  the  evenings  were  beginning  to  be 
pleasant.  The  evangelists  had  aslied  for  the  help  of  Chris- 
tian people  and  had  received  more  than  the  usual  amount 
of  encouragement.  But  they  felt  a  great  need  of  more  and 
better  music.  During  the  meetings  on  the  Sunday  jusi 
gone,  the  assistant  at  the  organ  had  been  talien  ill.  The 
\  olunteers  from  the  city  were  few  and  the  voices  of  ordi- 
nary quality. 

"There  will  be  a  small  meeting  to-night,  John,"  said  his 
wife,  as  they  entered  the  tent  a  little  after  seven  o'clocli 
and  began  to  arrange  the  chairs  and  light  up. 

"Yes,  I  think  so."  Mr.  Gray  was  a  small  energetic  man 
with  a  pleasant  voice  and  the  courage  of  a  high-born  fighter. 
He  had  already  made  friends  in  the  neighborhood  and  one 
of  his  converts,  a  heavy  faced  man  who  had  just  come  in. 
began  to  help  in  the  arrangement  of  the  seats. 

It  was  after  eight  o'clock  when  Alexander  Powers 
opened  the  door  of  his  ofiice  and  started  to  go  home.  He 
was  going  to  take  a  car  at  the  corner  of  the  Rectangle.  Bat 
as  he  neared  it  he  was  roused  by  a  voice  coming  from  the 
tent. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  71 

It  was  the  voice  of  Rachel  "Winslow.  It  struck  through 
his  coDsciousuess  of  struggle  over  his  own  question  that 
had  sent  him  into  the  Divine  presence  for  an  answer.  He 
had  not  yet  reached  a  conclusion.  He  was  troubled  with 
uncertainty.  Plis  whole  previous  course  of  action  as  a  rail- 
road man  was  the  poorest  possible  preparation  for  anything 
sacrificial.  And  he  could  not  yet  say  what  he  would  do 
in  the  matter. 

Hark!  What  was  she  singing?  How  did  Rachel  Wins- 
low  happen  to  be  down  here?  Several  windows  near  by 
went  up.  Some  men  quarreling  in  a  saloon  stopped  and 
listened.  Other  figures  were  walking  rapidly  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Rectangle  and  the  tent. 

Surely  Rachel  Winslow  never  was  happier  in  her  life. 
She  never  had  sung  like  that  in  the  First  Church.  It  was 
a  marvelous  voice.  What  was  it  she  was  singing?  Again 
Alexander  Powers,  Superintendent  of  the  Machine  Shops, 
paused  and  listened. 

"Where  He  leads  me  I  will  follow. 
Where  He  leads  me  I  will  follow. 
Where  He  leads  me  I  will  follow, 
I'll  go  with  Him,  with  Him, 
All  the  way." 

The  brutal,  stolid,  coarse,  impure  life  of  the  Rectangle 
stirred  itself  into  new  life,  as  the  song,  as  pure  as  the  sur- 
roundings were  vile,  floated  out  into  saloon  and  den  and 
foul  lodging.  Some  one  stumbling  hastily  by  Alexander 
Powers  said  in  answer  to  a  question, 

"The  tent's  beginning  to  run  over  to-night.  That's  what 
the  talent  calls  music,  eh?" 

The  Superintendent  turned  towards  the  tent.      Then 


72  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

he  stopped.  And  after  a  moment  of  indecision  he  went 
on  to  the  corner  and  took  the  car  for  his  home.  But  before 
he  was  out  of  the  sound  of  Rachel's  voice  he  knew  that  he 
had  settled  for  himself  the  question  of  what  Jesus  would 
do. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"If  anj^  man  would  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself  and 

lake  up  his  cross  daily  and  follow  me." 

Henry  Maxwell  paced  his  study  back  and  forth.  It  was 
Wednesday  and  he  had  started  to  think  out  the  subject  of 
his  evening  service  which  fell  upon  that  night. 

Out  of  one  of  his  study  windows  he  could  see  the  tall 
chimneys  of  the  railroad  shops.  The  top  of  the  evan- 
gelist's tent  just  showed  over  the  buildings  around  the  Rec- 
tangle. 

The  pastor  of  the  First  Church  looked  out  of  this  win- 
dow every  time  he  turned  in  his  walk.  After  a  while  he 
sat  down  at  his  desk  and  drew  a  large  piece  of  paper 
towards  him. 

After  thinking  several  moments  he  wrote  in  large  let- 
ters the  following: 

A  NUMBER  OF  THINGS  THAT  JESUS  WOULD  PROBABLY 
DO  IN  THIS  PARISH. 

1.  Live  in  a  simple,  plain  manner,  without  needless  luxury  on 
the  one  hand  or  undue  asceticism  on  the  other. 

2.  Preach  fearlessly  to  the  hypocrites  in  the  church  no  matter 
what  their  social  importance  or  wealth. 

3.  Show  in  some  practical  form  sympathy  and  love  for  the 
common  people  as  well  as  for  the  well  to  do,  educated,  refined 
people  who  make  up  the  majority  of  the  church  and  parish. 

4.  Identify  himself  with  the  great  causes  of  Humanity  in  some 
personal  way  that  would  call  for  self  denial  and  suffering. 

5.  Preach  against  the  saloon  in  Raymond. 


74  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

6.  Become  known  as  a  friend  and  companion  of  the  sinful  peo- 
ple in  the  Rectangle. 

7.  Give  up  the  summer  trip  to  Europe  this  j^ear.  (I  have  been 
abroad  twice  and  cannot  claim  any  special  need  of  rest.  I  am 
well,  and  could  forego  this  pleasure,  using  the  money  for  some 
one  who  needs  a  vacation  more  than  I  do.  There  are  probably 
plenty  of  such  people  in  the  city.) 

8.  What  else  would  Jesus  do  as  Henry  INTaxwell? 

He  was  conscious,  with  a  humility  that  once  was  a 
stranger  to  him,  that  his  outline  of  Jesus'  probable  action 
was  painfully  lacking  in  depth  and  power,  but  he  was  seek- 
ing carefully  for  concrete  shapes  into  which  he  might  cast 
his  thought  of  Jesus'  conduct.  Nearly  every  point  he  had 
put  down,  meant,  for  him,  a  complete  overturning  of  the 
custom  and  habit  of  years  in  the  ministry.  In  spite  of  that, 
he  still  searched  deeper  for  sources  of  the  Christlike  spirit. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  write  any  more,  but  sat  at  his  desk 
absorbed  in  his  attempt  to  catch  more  and  more  of  the 
spirit  of  Jesus  in  his  own  life.  He  had  forgotten  the  par- 
ticular subject  for  his  prayer  meeting  with  which  he  had 
begun  his  morning  study. 

He  was  so  absorbed  over  his  thought  that  he  did  not 
hear  the  bell  ring  and  he  was  roused  by  the  servant  who 
announced  a  caller.    He  had  sent  up  his  name,  Mr.  Gray. 

Maxwell  stepped  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  asked 
Gray  to  come  up. 

•'We  can  talk  better  up  here." 

So  Gray  came  up  and  stated  the  reason  for  his  call. 

"I  want  you,  Mr.  Maxwell,  to  help  me.  Of  course  you 
have  heard  what  a  wonderful  meeting  we  had  Monday 
night  and  last  night.  Miss  Winslow  has  done  more  with 
her  voice  than  I  could,  and  the  tent  won't  hold  the  peo- 
ple." 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  76 

•Tve  heard  of  that.  It's  the  first  time  the  people  there 
have  heard  her.    It's  no  wonder  they  are  attracted." 

••It  has  been  a  wonderful  revelation  to  us,  and  a  most 
encouraging  event  in  our  work.  But  I  came  to  ask  if  you 
could  not  come  down  to-night  and  preach.  I  am  suffering 
with  a  severe  cold.  I  do  not  dare  to  trust  my  voice  again. 
I  know  it  is  asking  a  good  deal  for  such  a  busy  man.  But 
if  you  can't  come,  say  so  freely  and  I'll  try  somewhere 
else." 

"I'm  sorry,  but  it's  my  regular  prayer  meeting  night," 
said  Henry  Maxwell.  Then  he  flushed  and  added,  "I 
shall  Ije  able  to  arrange  it  in  some  way  so  as  to  come  down. 
You  can  count  on  me." 

Gray  thanked  him  earnestly  and  rose  to  go. 
"Won't  you  stay  a  minute,  Gray,  and  let  us  have    a 
prayer  together?" 

"Yes,"  said  Gray,  simply. 

So  the  two  men  kneeled  together  In  the  study.  Mr. 
Maxwell  prayed  like  a  child.  Gray  was  touched  to  tears 
as  he  kneeled  there.  There  was  something  almost  pitiful 
in  the  way  this  man  who  had  lived  his  ministerial  life  in 
such  a  narrow  limit  of  exercise  now  begged  for  wisdom 
and  strength  to  speak  a  message  to  the  people  in  the  Rec- 
tangle. 

Gray  rose  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"God  bless  you,  Mr.  Maxwell.  I'm  sure  the  Spirit  will 
give  you  power  to-night." 

Henry  Maxwell  made  no  answer.  He  did  not  even 
trust  himself  to  say  that  he  hoped  so.  But  he  thought  of 
his  promise  and  it  brought  a  certain  peace  that  was  refresh 
Ing  to  his  heart  and  mind  alike. 

So   that    is  how  It  came  about  that  when  the  First 


76  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Church  audience  came  iuto  the  lecture  room  that  evening 
it  was  met  with  another  surprise. 

There  was  an  unusually  large  number  present.  The 
prayer  meetings  ever  since  that  remarkable  Sunday  morn- 
ing, had  been  attended  as  never  before  in  the  history  of  the 
First  Church. 

Henry  Maxwell  came  at  once  to  the  point.  He  spoke  of 
Gray's  work  and  of  his  request. 

"I  feel  as  if  1  were  called  to  go  down  there  to-night, 
and  I  will  leave  it  with  you  to  say  whether  you  will  go  on 
with  the  meeting  here.  I  think  perhaps  the  best  plan 
would  be  for  a  few  volunteers  to  go  down  to  the  Rectangle 
with  me  prepared  to  help  in  the  after-meeting,  and  the 
rest  remain  here  and  pray  that  the  Spirit's  power  may  go 
with  us." 

So  half  a  dozen  of  the  men  went  with  Henry  Maxwell, 
and  the  rest  of  the  audience  stayed  in  the  lecture  room. 
Maxwell  could  not  escape  the  thought  as  he  left  the  room 
that  probably  in  his  entire  church  membership  there  might 
not  be  found  a  score  of  disciples  who  were  capable  of  doing 
work  that  would  successfully  lead  needy,  sinful  men  into 
the  knowledge  of  Christ.  The  thought  did  not  linger  in 
his  mind  to  vex  him  as  he  went  on  his  way,  but  it  was  sim- 
ply a  part  of  his  whole  new  conception  of  the  meaning  of 
Christian  discipleship. 

When  he  and  his  little  company  of  volunteers  reached 
the  Rectangle,  the  tent  was  already  crowded..  They  had 
difficulty  in  getting  to  the  little  platform.  Rachel  was 
there  with  Virginia  and  Jasper  Chase  who  had  come 
instead  of  the  Doctor  to-night. 

When  the  meeting  began  with  a  song  in  which  Rachel 
sang  the  solo  and  the  people  were  asked  to  join  in  the 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS   DOV"  77 

chorus,  not  a  foot  of  standing  room  was  left  in  the  tent. 
The  night  was  mild  and  the  sides  of  the  tent  were  up  and 
a  great  border  of  faces  stretched  around,  looking  in  and 
forming  part  of  the  audience. 

After  the  singing,  and  a  prayer  by  one  of  the  city  pas- 
tors who  was  present,  Gray  stated  the  reasons  for  his  ina- 
bility to  speak,  and  in  his  simple  manner  turned  the  service 
over  to  "Brother  Maxwell  of  the  First  Church." 

"Who's  de  bloke?"  asked  a  hoarse  voice  near  the  out- 
side of  the  tent. 

"De  P'ust  Church  parson.  We've  got  de  whole  high  tone 
swell  outfit  to-night." 

"Did  you  say  Fust  Church?  I  know  him.  My  landlord 
has  got  a  front  pew  up  there,"  said  another  voice  and  there 
was  a  laugh,  for  the  speaker  was  a  saloon  keeper. 

"Trow  out  de  life  line  'cross  de  dark  wave!"'  began  a 
drunken  man  near  by,  singing  in  such  an  unconscious  imita- 
tion of  a  local  traveling  singer's  nasal  tone  that  roars  of 
laughter  and  jeers  of  approval  rose  around  him.  The  peo- 
ple in  the  tent  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  disturbance. 
There  were  shouts  of  "Put  him  out!"  "Give  the  Fust 
Church  a  chance!"    "Song!    Song!    Give  us  another  song! " 

Henry  Maxwell  stood  up,  and  a  great  wave  of  actual 
terror  went  over  him.  This  was  not  like  preaching  to  the 
well-dressed,  respectable,  good-mannered  people  on  the 
boulevard.  He  began  to  speak,  but  the  confusion  increased. 
Gray  went  down  into  the  crowd  but  did  not  seem  able  to 
quiet  it.  Henry  Maxwell  raised  his  arm  and  his  voice.  The 
crowd  in  the  tent  began  to  pay  some  attention,  but  the  noise 
on  the  outside  increased.  In  a  few  minutes  the  audience 
was  beyond  Maxwell's  control.  He  turned  to  Rachel  with 
«  sad  smile. 


78  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"Sing  something,  Miss  Winslow.  They  will  listen  to 
you,"  he  said,  and  then  sat  down  and  put  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

It  was  Rachel's  opportunity  and  she  was  fully  equal 
to  it.  Virginia  was  at  the  organ  and  Kachel  asked  her  to 
play  a  few  notes  of  the  hymn, 

"Savior,  I  follow  on, 

Guided  by  Thee, 

Seeing  not  yet  the  hand 

That  leadeth  me; 

Hushed  be  my  heart  and  still. 

Fear  I  no  farther  ill, 

Only  to  meet  thy  will, 

My  will  shall  be." 

Kachel  had  not  sung  the  first  line  before  the  people  in 
the  tent  were  all  turned  towards  her,  hushed  and  reverent. 
Before  she  had  finished  the  verse  the  Rectangle  was  sub- 
dued and  tamed.  It  lay  like  some  wild  beast  at  her  feet 
and  she  sang  it  Into  harmlessness.  Ah!  What  were  the 
flippant,  perfumed,  critical  audiences  in  concert  halls  com- 
pared with  this  dirty,  drunken,  impure,  degraded,  besotted 
humanity  that  trembled  and  wept  and  grew  strangely, 
sadly  thoughtful,  under  the  touch  of  the  divine  ministry 
of  this  beautiful  young  woman.  Henry  Maxwell,  as  he 
raised  his  head  and  saw  the  transformed  mob,  had  a 
glimpse  of  something  that  Jesus  would  probably  do  with  a 
voice  like  Rachel  Winslow's.  Jasper  Chase  sat  with  his 
eyes  on  the  singer,  and  his  greatest  longing  as  an  ambitious 
author  was  swallowed  up  in  the  thought  of  what  Rachel 
Winslow's  love  might  sometime  mean  to  him.  And  over 
in  the  shadow,  outside,  stood  the  last  person  any  one  might 
have  expected  to  see  at  a  gospel  tent  service— Rollin  Page, 
who,  jostled  on  every  side  by  rough  men  and  women  who 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  79 

stared  at  the  swell  in  the  fine  clothes,  seemed  careless  of 
his  surroundings  and  at  the  same  time  evidently'  swayed 
by  the  power  that  Rachel  possessed.  He  had  just  come 
over  from  the  club.  Neither  Rachel  nor  Virginia  saw  him 
that  night. 

The  song  was  over.  Henry  Maxwell  rose  again.  This 
time  he  felt  calm.  What  would  Jesus  do?  He  spoke  as 
he  thought  once  he  never  could.  Who  were  these  people? 
They  were  immortal  souls.  What  was  Christianity?  A 
calling  of  sinners,  not  the  righteous,  to  repentance.  How 
would  Jesus  speak?  What  would  He  say?  He  could  not 
tell  all  that  his  message  would  include,  but  he  felt  sure  of 
a  part  of  it.  And  in  that  certainty  he  spoke  on.  Never 
before  had  he  felt  "compassion  for  the  multitude."  What 
had  the  multitude  been  to  him  during  his  ten  years  in  the 
First  Church,  but  a  vague,  dangerous,  dirty,  troublesome 
factor  in  society,  outside  of  the  church  and  his  reach,  an 
element  that  caused  him,  occasionally,  an  unpleasant  feel- 
ing of  conscience;  a  factor  in  Raymond  that  w^as  talked 
about  at  associations  as  the  "masses,"  in  papers  written  by 
the  brethren  in  attempts  to  show  why  the  "masses"  were 
not  being  reached.  But  to-night,  as  he  faced  the  "masses," 
he  asked  himself  whether,  after  all,  this  was  not  just  about 
such  a  multitude  as  Jesus  faced  oftenest,  and  he  felt  the 
genuine  emotion  of  love  for  a  crowd  w^hich  is  one  of  the 
best  indications  a  preacher  ever  has  that  he  is  living  close 
to  the  heart  of  the  world's  eternal  Life.  It  is  easy  to  love 
an  individual  sinner,  especially  if  he  is  personally  pictur- 
esque, or  interesting.  To  love  a  multitude  of  siuners,  is 
distinctly  a  Christlike  quality. 

When  the  meeting  closed,  there  was  no  special  Interest 
shown.    The  people  rapidly  melted  aw^ay  from  the  tent. 


80  IN  HIS  STEPS 

and  the  saloons,  which  had  been  experiencing  a  dull  sea- 
son while  the  meetings  progressed,  again  drove  a  thriving 
trade.  The  Rectangle,  as  if  to  make  up  for  lost  time, 
started  in  with  vigor  on  its  usual  night-life  of  debauch. 
Henry  Max\vell  and  his  little  party,  including  Virginia, 
Rachel,  and  Jasper  Chase,  wall^ed  down  past  the  row 
of  saloons  and  dens,  until  they  reached  the  corner  where 
the  cars  passed. 

"This  is  a  terrible  spot,"  said  Henry  Maxwell,  as  they 
stood  waiting  for  their  car.  "I  never  realized  that  Ray- 
mond had  such  a  festering  sore.  It  does  not  seem  possible 
that  this  is  a  city  full  of  Christian  disciples." 

He  paused  and  then  continued: 

"Do  you  think  any  one  can  ever  remove  this  great  curse 
of  the  saloon?  Why  don't  we  all  act  together  against  the 
traffic?  What  w^ould  Jesus  do?  Would  He  keep  silent? 
Would  He  vote  to  license  these  causes  of  crime  and  death?" 

Henry  Maxwell  was  talking  to  himself  more  than  to 
the  others.  He  remembered  that  he  had  always  voted  for 
license,  and  so  had  nearly  all  of  his  church  members.  What 
would  Jesus  do?  Could  he  answer  that  question?  Would 
Jesus  preach  and  act  against  the  saloon,  if  he  lived  to-day? 
How  would  he  preach  and  act?  Suppose  it  w^as  not  pop- 
ular to  preach  against  license?  Suppose  the  Christian 
people  thought  it  was  all  that  could  be  done,  to  license  the 
evil,  and  so  get  revenue  from  a  necessary  sin?  Or  sup- 
pose the  church  members  owned  property  where  the 
saloons  stood— what  then?  He  knew  that  these  were  the 
facts  in  Raymond.    What  would  Jesus  do? 

He  went  up  into  his  study,  the  next  morning,  with  that 
question  only  partly  answered.  He  thought  of  it  all  day 
He  was  still  thinking  of  it,  and  reaching  certain  real  con- 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  81 

elusions,  when  the  evening  **News"  came.  His  wife  brought 
it  up,  and  sat  down  a  few  minutes  while  he  read  it  to  lier. 

The  "Evening  News"  was  at  present  the  most  sensa- 
tional paper  in  Raymond.  That  is  to  say,  it  was  being 
edited  in  such  a  remarliable  fashion,  that  its  subscribers 
had  never  been  so  excited  over  a  newspaper  before. 

First,  they  had  noticed  the  absence  of  the  prize  tight, 
and  gradually  it  began  to  dawn  upon  them,  tliat  the 
"News"  no  longer  printed  accounts  of  crime  with  detailed 
descriptions,  or  scandals  in  private  life.  Then  they  noticed 
that  the  advertisements  of  liquor  and  tobacco  were  being 
dropped,  together  with  certain  other  advertisements  of  a 
questionable  character.  The  discontinuance  of  the  Sun- 
day paper  caused  the  greatest  comment  of  all,  and  now  the 
character  of  the  editorials  was  creating  the  greatest  excite- 
ment. A  quotation  from  the  Monday  paper  of  this  week 
will  show  what  Edward  Norman  was  doing  to  keep  his 
promise.    The  editorial  was  headed, 

THE  MORAL  SIDE  OF  POIJTICAL  QUESTIONS. 

The  editor  of  the  'News'  has  always  advocated  the  princi- 
ples of  the  great  political  party  at  present  in  power,  and  has, 
therefore,  discussed  all  political  questions  from  a  standpoint  of 
expediency,  or  of  belief  in  the  party,  as  opposed  to  other  organi- 
zations. Hereafter,  to  be  perfectly  honest  with  all  our  readers, 
the  editor  will  present  and  discuss  political  questions  from  the 
standpoint  of  right  and  wrong.  In  other  words,  the  first  ques- 
tion will  not  be,  'Is  it  in  the  interest  of  our  party?'  or  'Is  it 
according  to  the  principles  laid  down  by  the  party?'  but  the  ques- 
tion first  asked  will  be,  'Is  this  measure  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  and  teachings  of  Jesus,  as  the  author  of  the  greatest 
standard  of  life  known  to  men?'  That  is,  to  be  perfectly  plain, 
the  moral  side  of  every  political  question  vvill  be  considered  itn 
most  important   side,   and  the  ground   will    be  dij-linctly   l, ;;..;:. 


32  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

that  nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  are  under  the  same  law,  to 
do  all  things  to  the  glory  of  God,  as  the  first  rule  of  action. 

The  same  principle  will  be  observed  in  this  office  towards 
candidates  for  places  of  responsibility  and  trust  in  the  Republic. 
Regardless  of  party  politics,  the  editor  of  the  'News'  will  do  all 
in  his  power  to  bring  the  best  men  into  power,  and  will  not,  know- 
ingly, help  to  support  for  office  any  candidate  who  is  unworthy, 
however  much  he  may  be  endorsed  by  the  party.  The  first  ques- 
tion asked  about  the  man,  as  about  the  measure, -vvill  be,  'Is  he  the 
right  man  for  the  place?    Is  he  a  good  man  with  ability?' 

There  had  been  more  of  this;  but  we  have  quoted 
enough  to  show  the  character  of  the  editorials.  Hundreds 
of  men  in  Raymond  had  read  it,  and  rubbed  their  eyes  in 
amazement.  A  good  many  of  them  had  promptly  written 
to  the  "News,"  telling  the  editor  to  stop  their  paper.  The 
paper  still  came  out,  however,  and  was  eagerly  read  all 
over  the  city.  At  the  end  of  the  week,  Edward  Norman 
knew  very  well  that  he  had  actually  lost  already  a  large 
number  of  valuable  subscribers.  He  faced  tha  conditions 
calmly,  although  Clark,  the  managing  editor,  grimly  antici- 
pated ultimate  bankruptcy,  especially  since  Monday's  edi- 
torial. 

To-night,  as  Henry  Maxwell  read  to  his  wife,  he  could 
see  on  almost  every  column  evidences  of  Norman's  con- 
scientious obedience  to  his  promise.  There  was  an  absence 
of  slangy,  sensational  scare-heads.  The  reading  matter 
under  the  head  lines  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  them.  He 
noticed  "In  two  columns  that  the  reporters  names  appeared, 
signed,  at  the  bottom.  And  there  was  a  distinct  advance 
in  the  dignity  and  style  of  their  contributions. 

"So  Norman  is  beginning  to  get  his  reporters  to  sign 
their  work.  He  has  talked  with  me  about  that.  It  is  a 
good  thing.    It  fixes    responsibility    for    items    where  it 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  83 

belongs,  and  raises  the  standard  of  work  done.    A  good 
thing  all  around,  for  public  and  writers." 

Henry  Maxwell  suddenly  paused.  His  wife  looked  up 
from  some  work  she  was  doing.  He  was  reading  some- 
thing with  the  utmost  interest. 

"Listen  to  this,  Mary,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  while 
his  voice  trembled: 

This  morning  Alexander  Powers,  Superintendent  of  the 
L.  and  T.  R.  R.  shops  in  this  city,  handed  his  resignation  to  the 
road,  and  gave  as  the  reason  the  fact  that  certain  proof  had  fal- 
len into  his  liands  of  the  violation  of  the  Interstate  Commerce 
Law,  and  also  of  the  State  law  which  has  recently  been  framed 
to  prevent  and  punish  railroad  pooling  for  the  benefit  of  certain 
favored  shippers.  Mr.  Powers  states  in  his  resignation  that  he 
can  no  longer  consistently  withhold  the  information  he  possesses 
against  the  road.  He  has  placed  his  evidence  against  the  com- 
pany in  the  hands  of  the  Commission,  and  it  is  now  for  them  to 
take  action  upon  it. 

The  "News"  wishes  to  express  itself  on  this  action  of  Mr. 
Powers.  In  the  first  place,  he  has  nothing  to  gain  by  it.  He  has 
lost  a  valuable  place,  voluntarily,  when,  by  keeping  silent,  he 
might  have  retained  it.  In  the  second  place,  we  believe  his  action 
ought  to  receive  the  approval  of  all  thoughtful,  honest  citizens, 
who  believe  in  seeing  law  obeyed  and  law-breakers  brought  to  jus- 
tice. In  a  case  like  this,  where  evidence  against  a  railroad  com- 
pany is  generally  understood  to  be  almost  impossible  to  obtain,  it 
is  the  general  belief  that  the  officers  of  the  road  are  often  in  pos- 
session of  criminating  facts,  but  do  not  consider  it  to  be  any  of 
their  business  to  inform  the  authorities  that  the  law  is  being 
defied.  The  entire  result  of  this  evasion  of  responsibility  on 
the  part  of  those  who  are  responsible,  is  demoralizing  to  every 
young  man  connected  with  the  road.  The  editor  of  the  "News" 
recalls  the  statement  made  by  a  prominent  railroad  official  in  this 
city  a  little  while  ago,  that  nearly  every  clerk  in  a  certain  depart- 
ment of  the  road  who  understood  how  large  sums  of  money  were 
made  by  shrewd  violations  of  the  Interstate  Commerce  Law,  w^as 
ready  to  admire  the   shrewdness  with   which   it  was  done,   and 


84  TN  HIS  STEPS. 

declared  that  they  would  all  do  the  same  thing,  if  they  were  high 
enough  in  railroad  circles  to  attempt  it.  * 

It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  such  a  condition  of  business 
is  destructive  to  all  the  nobler  and  higher  standards  of  conduct; 
and  no  young  man  can  live  in  such  an  atmosphere  of  unpunished 
dishonesty  and  lawlessness,  without  wrecking  his  charaoter. 

In  our  judgment,  Mr.  Powers  did  the  only  thing  that  a 
Christian  man  can  do.  He  has  rendered  brave  and  useful  service 
to  the  state  and  the  general  public.  It  is  not  always  an  easy 
matter  to  determine  the  relations  that  exist  between  the  indi- 
vidual citizen  and  his  fixed  duty  to  the  public.  In  this  case, 
there  is  no  doubt  in  our  minds  that  the  step  which  INIr.  Powers 
has  taken  commends  itself  to  every  man  who  believes  in  law  and 
its  enforcement.  There  are  times  Avhen  the  individual  must  act 
for  the  people,  in  ways  that  will  mean  sacrifice  and  loss  to  him 
of  the  gravest  character.  Mr.  Powers  will  be  misunderstood  and 
misrepresented;  but  there  is  no  question  that  his  course  will  be 
approved  by  every  citizen  who  wishes  to  see  the  greatest  corpora- 
tions, as  well  as  the  weakest  individual,  subject  to  the  same  law. 
Mr.  Powers  has  done  all  that  a  loyal,  patriotic  citizen  could  do. 
It  now  remains  for  the  Commission  to  act  upon  his  evidence, 
which,  Ave  understand,  is  overwhelming  proof  of  the  laAvlessness 
of  the  L.  and  T.  Let  the  la\y  be  enforced,  no  matter  who  the 
persons  may  be  who  have  been  guilty.'  " 

PleniT  MaxAvell  finished  reading  and  dropped  the  paper. 

"I  must  go  and  see  Powers.  This  is  the  result  of  his 
promise.'.' 

He  rose,  and  as  he  was  going  out,  his  wife  said, 

•'Do  you  think,  Henry,  that  Jesus  would  have  done 
that?" 

Henry  Maxwell  paused  a  moment.  Then  he  answered 
slowly, 

"Yes,  I  think  He  would.  At  any  rate,  Powers  has 
decided  so,   and  each  one  of  us   who  made  the  promise 

[*  This  was  actually  said  in  one  of  the  General  Offices  of  a 
great  western  railroad,  to  the  author's  knowledge.] 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  85 

understands  that  he  is  not  deciding  Jesus'  conduct  for  any- 
one else,  only  for  himself." 

"How  about  his  family?  How  will  Mrs.  Powers  and 
Celia  be  liliely  to  talie  it?" 

"Very  hard,  I  have  no  doubt.  That  will  be  Powers' s 
cross  in  this  matter.    They  will  not  understand  his  motive." 

Henry  Maxwell  went  out  and  wallied  over  to  the  next 
block,  where  the  Superintendent  lived.  To  his  relief,  Pow- 
ers himself  came  to  the  door. 

The  two  men  shooli  hands  silently.  They  instantly 
understood  each  other,  without  words.  There  had  never 
been  such  a  bond  of  union  between  the  minister  and  his 
parishioner. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  Henry  Maxwell  aslied, 
after  they  had  talked  over  the  facts  in  the  case. 

"You  mean  another  position?  I  have  no  plans  yet.  I 
can  go  baclv  to  my  old  worli  as  a  telegraph  operator.  My 
family  will  not  suffer  except  in  a  social  way." 

Alexander  Powers  spolie  calmly,  if  sadly.  Henry  Max- 
well did  not  need  to  asli  him  how  his  wife  and  daughter 
felt.  He  knew  well  enough  that  the  Superintendent  had 
suffered  deepest  at  that  point. 

"There  is  one  matter  I  wish  j-ou  would  see  to,"  said 
Powers  after  a  while,  "and  that  is  the  work  begun  at  the 
Shops.  So  far  as  I  know,  the  Company  will  not  object  to 
that  going  right  on.  It  Is  one  of  the  contradictions  of  the 
railroad  world  that  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.'s,  and  other  Christian 
influences,  are  encouraged  by  the  roads,  while  all  the  time 
the  most  un-Christian  and  lawless  acts  are  being  committed 
in  the  official  management  of  the  roads  themselves.  Of 
course  it  is  understood  that  it  pays  a  railroad  to  have  in 
its  employ  men  who  are  temperate,  and  honest,  and  Chris- 


86  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

tiau.  So  I  have  iiu  doubt  the  Master  Mechanic  will  have 
the  same  courtesy  extended  to  him  that  I  had,  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  room  and  its  uses.  But  what  I  want  you  to  do, 
Mr.  Maxwell,  is  to  see  that  my  plan  is  carried  out.  Will 
jou?  You  understand  what  the  idea  was  in  general.  You 
made  a  very  favorable  impression  on  the  men.  Go  down 
there  as  often  as  you  can.  Get  Milton  Wright  interested 
to  provide  something  for  the  furnishing  and  expense  of  the 
coffee  plant  and  reading  tables.    Will  you  do  it?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Henry  Maxwell.  He  stayed  a  little  longer. 
Before  he  went  away,  he  and  the  Superintendent  had  a 
prayer  together,  and  they  parted  with  that  silent  hand- 
grasp  that  seemed  to  them  like  a  new  token  of  their  Chris- 
tian discipleship  and  fellowship. 

The  pastor  of  the  First  Church  went  home  stirred  deep- 
ly by  the  events  of  the  week.  Gradually  the  truth  was 
growing  upon  him  that  the  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would 
Avas  working  out  a  revolution  in  his  parish  and  throughout 
the  city.  Every  day  added  to  the  serious  results  of  obe- 
dience to  that  pledge.  Henry  Maxwell  did  not  pretend  to 
see  the  end.  He  was,  in  fact,  only  now  at  the  very  begin- 
ning of  events  that  were  destined  to  change  the  histoi^y 
of  hundreds  of  families,  not  only  in  Raymond  but  through- 
out the  entire  country.  As  he  thought  of  Edward  Norman 
and  Eachel  and  Mr.  Powers,  and  of  the  results  that  had 
already  come  from  their  actions,  he  could  not  help  a  feel- 
ing of  intense  interest  in  the  probable  effect,  if  all  the  per- 
sons in  the  First  Church  who  had  made  the  pledge,  faith- 
fully kept  it.  Would  they  all  keep  it,  or  would  some  of 
them  turn  back  when  the  cross  became  too  heavy? 

He  was  asking  this  question  the  next  morning,  as  he  sat 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  87 

in  his  study,  when  the  President  of  the  Endeavor  Society 
called  to  see  him. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  trouble  you  with  my  ease," 
said  young  Morris,  coming  at  once  to  his  errand,  "but  I 
thought,  Mr.  Maxwell,  that  you  might  advise  me  a  little." 

•Tm  glad  you  came.  Go  on,  Fred."  Henry  Maxwell 
had  known  the  young  man  ever  since  his  first  year  in  the 
pastorate,  and  loved  and  honored  him  for  his  consistent, 
faithful  service  in  the  church. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  I'm  out  of  a  job.  You  linow  I've 
been  doing  reporter  worli  on  the  morning  'Sentinel'  since  I 
graduated  last  year.  Well,  last  Saturday  Mr.  Burr  asl^ed 
me  to  go  down  the  road  Sunday  morning  and  get  the  details 
of  that  train  robbery  at  the  Junction,  and  write  the  thing 
up  for  the  extra  edition  that  came  out  Monday  morning, 
just  to  get  the  start  of  the  'News.'  I  refused  to  go,  and 
Burr  gave  me  my  dismissal.  He  was  in  a  bad  temper,  or  I 
thinli  perhaps  he  would  not  have  done  it.  He  has  always 
treated  me  well  before.  Now,  don't  you  thinli  Jesus  would 
have  dene  as  I  did?  I  asli  because  the  other  fellows  say 
I  was  a  fool  not  to  do  the  worli.  I  want  to  feel  that  a  Chris- 
tian acts  from  motives  that  may  seem  strange  to  others, 
sometimes,  but  not  foolish.    What  do  you  thinli?" 

"I  thinlj  you  Ivcpt  your  promise,  Fred.  I  cannot  believe 
Jesus  would  do  newspaper  worli  on  Sunday  as  you  were 
asked  to  do  it." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Maxwell.  I  felt  a  little  troubled  over  it, 
but  the  longer  I  think  it  over  the  better  I  feel." 

Morris  rose  to  go,  and  Henry  Maxwell  rose  and  laid  a 
loving  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Fred?" 


88  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  I  have  thought  some  of  going  to 
Chicago,  or  some  large  city." 

"Why  don't  you  try  the  'News'?" 

''They  are  all  supplied,  I  have  not  thought  of  applying 
there." 

Henry  Maxwell  thought  a  moment. 

"Come  down  to  the  'News'  office  with* me,  and  let  us  see 
Norman  about  it." 

So,  a  few  minutes  later,  Edward  Norman  received  into 
his  room  the  minister  and  young  Morris,  and  Henry  Max- 
well briefly  told  the  cause  of  their  errand. 

"I  can  give  you  a  place  on  the  'News',"  said  Edward 
Norman,  with  his  keen  look  softened  by  a  smile  that  made 
it  winsome.  "Iwant  reporters  who  won't  work  Sundays. 
And  what  is  more,  I  am  making  plans  for  a  special  kind  of 
reporting  which  I  believe  young  Morris  here  can  develop 
because  he  is  in  sympathy  with  what  Jesus  would  do." 

He  assigned  Morris  a  definite  task,  and  Henry  Maxwell 
started  back  to  his  study,  feeling  tliat  kind  of  satisfaction 
(and  it  is  a  very  deep  kind)  which  a  man  feels  when  he  has 
been  even  partly  instrumental  in  finding  an  unemployed 
person  a  situation. 

He  had  intended  to  go  back  to  his  study,  but  on  his 
way  home  he  passed  by  one  of  Milton  Wright's  stores.  He 
thought  he  would  simply  step  in  and  shake  hands  with  his 
parishioner  and  bid  him  God-speed  in  what  he  had  heard 
be  was  doing  to  put  Christ  into  his  business.  But  when 
he  went  into  the  office,  Milton  Wright  insisted  on  detaining 
him  to  talk  over  some  of  his  new  plans.  Henry  Maxwell 
asked  himself  if  this  was  the  Milton  Wright  he  used  to 
know,  eminently  practical,  business-like,  according  to  the 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?''  89 

regular  code  of  the  business  world,  and  viewing  everything 
first  and  foremost  from  the  standpoint  of  "Will  it  pay?" 

"There  is  no  use  to  disguise  the  fact,  Mr.  Maxwell, 
that  I  have  been  compelled  to  revolutionize  the  whole  meth- 
od of  my  business  since  I  made  that  promise.  I  have  been 
doing  a  great  many  things,  during  the  last  twenty  years 
in  this  store,  that  I  know  Jesus  would  not  do.  But  that  is 
a  small  item  compared  with  the  number  of  things  I  begin 
to  believe  Jesus  would  do.  My  sins  of  commision  have  not 
been  as  many  as  those  of  omission  in  business  relations." 

"What  was  the  first  change  you  made?"  asked  Henry 
Maxwell.  He  felt  as  if  his  sermon  could  wait  for  him  in 
his  study.  As  the  interview  with  Milton  Wright  continued, 
he  was  not  so  sure  but  that  he  had  found  material  for  a  ser- 
mon without  going  back  to  his  study. 

"I  think  the  first  change  I  had  to  make  was  in  my 
thought  of  my  employes.  I  came  down  here  Monday  morn- 
ing after  that  Sunday  and  asked  myself,  'What  would  Je- 
sus do  in  His  relation  to  these  clerks,  book-keepers,  office 
boys,  draymen,  salesmen?  Would  He  try  to  establish  some 
sort  of  personal  relation  to  them  different  from  that  which 
I  have  sustained  all  these  years?'  I  soon  answered  the 
question  by  saying,  Yes.  Then  came  the  question  of  what 
it  would  lead  me  to  do.  I  did  not  see  how  I  could  answer 
it  to  my  satisfaction  without  getting  all  my  employes 
together  and  having  a  talk  with  them.  So  I  sent  invita- 
tions to  all  of  them,  and  we  had  a  meeting  out  there  in  the 
warehouse  Tuesday  night. 

"A  good  many  things  came  out  of  that  meeting.  I  can't 
tell  you  all.  I  tried  to  talk  with  the  men  as  I  imagined 
Jesus  might.  It  was  hard  work,  for  I  have  not  been  in  the 
habit  of  it,  and  I  must  have  made  mistakes.    But  I  ca)i 


90  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

hardly  make  you  believe,  Mr.  Maxwell,  the  effect  of  that 
meeting  on  some  of  the  men.  Before  it  closed,  I  saw  more 
than  a  dozen  of  them  with  tears  on  their  faces.  I  kept 
asking,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  and  the  more  I  asked  it, 
the  farther  along  it  pushed  me  into  the  most  intimate  and 
loving  relations  with  the  men  who  have  worked  for  me  all 
these  years.  Every  day  something  new  is  coming  up,  and 
I  am  Tight  now  in  the  midst  of  a  reconstructing  of  the 
entire  business,  so  far  as  its  motive  for  being  conducted  is 
concerned.  I  am  so  practically  ignorant  of  all  plans  for 
co-operation  and  its  application  to  business  that  I  am  try- 
ing to  get  information  from  every  possible  source.  I  have 
lately  made  a  special  study  of  the  life  of  Titus  Salt,  the 
great  mill  owner  of  Bradford,  England,  who  afterwards 
built  that  model  town  on  the  banks  of  the  Aire.  There  is 
a  good  deal  in  his  plans  that  will  help.  But  I  have  not  yet 
reached  definite  conclusions  in  regard  to  all  the  details.  I 
am  not  enough  used  to  Jesus'  methods.    But  see  here." 

Milton  eagerly  reached  up  into  one  of  the  pigeon  holes 
of  his  desk  and  took  out  a  paper. 

"I  have  sketched  out  what  seems  to  me  a  program  such 
as  Jesus  might  go  by  in  a  business  like  mine.  I  want  you 
to  tell  me  what  you  think  about  it." 

WHAT  JESUS  WOULD  PROBABLY  DO  IN  MILTON 
WRIGHT'S  PLACE  AS  A  BUSINESS  MAN. 

1.  He  would  engage  in  business  for  the  purpose  of  glorifying 
God,  and  not  for  the  primary  purpose  of  making  money. 

2.  All  money  that  might  be  made  he  would  never  regard  as 
his  own,  but  as  trust  funds  to  be  used  for  the  good  of  humanity. 

3.  His  relations  with  all  the  persons  in  his  employ  would  be 
the  most  loving  and  helpful.  He  could  not  help  thinking  of  them 
all  in  the  light  of  souls  to  be  saved.  This  thought  would  always 
be  greater  than  his  thought  of  making  money  in  business. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  91 

4.  He  wouIq  never  do  a  single  dishonest  or  questionable  thing 
or  try  in  anj^  remotest  way  to  get  the  advantage  of  any  one  else 
in  the  same  business. 

5.  The  principle  of  unselfishness  and  helpfulness  in  all  the 
details  of  the  business  would  direct  its  details. 

6.  Upon  this  principle  he  would  shape  the  entire  plan  of  his 
relations  to  his  employes,  to  the  people  who  were  his  customers, 
and  to  the  general  business  world  with  which  he  was  connected. 

Henry  Maxwell  read  this  over  slowly.  It  reminded  him 
of  his  own  attempts,  the  day  before,  to  put  into  a  concrete 
form  bis  thought  of  Jesus'  probable  action.  He  was  very 
thoughtful,  as  he  looked  up  and  met  Milton  Wright's  eager 
gaze. 

"Do  you  believe  you  can  continue  to  make  your  business 
pay  on  those  lines?" 

"I  do.  Intelligent  unselfishness  ought  to  be  wiser  than 
intelligent  selfishness,  don't  you  think?  If  the  men  who 
work  as  employes  begin  to  feel  a  personal  share  in  the 
profits  of  the  business  and,  more  than  that,  a  personal  love 
for  themselves  on  the  part  of  the  firm,  won't  the  result  be 
more  care,  less  waste,  more  diligence,  more  faithfulness?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  A  good  many  other  business  men 
don't,  do  they?  1  mean  as  a  general  thing.  How  about 
your  relations  to  the  selfish  world  that  is  not  trying  to 
make  money  on  Christian  principles?" 

"That  complicates  my  action  of  course." 

"Does  your  plan  contemplate  what  is  coming  to  be 
known  as  co-operation?" 

"Yes,  as  far  as  I  have  gone,  it  does.  As  I  told  you,  I 
am  studying  out  my  details  carefully.  I  am  absolutely  con- 
vinced that  Jesus  in  my  place  would  be  absolutely  unselfish. 
He  would  love  all  these  men  In  his  enjploy.  He  would 
consider  the   main   purpose  of  all   the   business   to  be   a 


92  In  his  steps. 

mutual  helpfulness,  and  would  conduct  it  all  so  that  God's 
kingdom  would  be  evidently  the  first  object  sought.  On 
those  general  principles,  as  I  say,  I  am  working.  I  must 
have  time  to  complete  the  details." 

When  Henry  Maxwell  finally  left  Milton  Wright,  he 
was  profoundly  impressed  with  the  revolution  that  was 
being  wrought  already  in  the  business.  As  he  passed  out  of 
the  store  he  caught  something  of  the  new  spirit  of  the  place. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  fact  that  Milton  Wright's  new 
relations  to  his  employes  were  beginning,  even  so  soon, 
after  less  than  two  weeks,  to  transform  the  entire  business. 
This  was  apparent  in  the  conduct  and  faces  of  the  clerks. 

"If  Milton  Wright  keeps  on,  he  will  be  one  of  the  most 
influential  preachers  in  Raymond,"  said  Henry  Maxwell  to 
himself,  when  he  reached  his  study.  The  question  rose  as 
to  his  continuance  in  this  course  when  he  began  to  I0S.3 
money  by  it,  as  was  possible.  Henry  Maxwell  prayed  that 
the  Holy  Spirit,  who  had  shown  Himself  with  growing 
power  in  the  company  of  the  First  Church  disciples,  might 
abide  long  with  them  all.  And  with  that  prayer  on  his 
lips  and  in  his  heart,  he  began  the  preparation  of  a  sermon 
in  which  he  was  going  to  present  to  his  people  on  Sunday 
the  subject  of  the  saloon  in  Raymond,  as  he  now  believed 
Jesus  would  do.  He  had  never  preached  against  the  saloon 
in  this  way  before.  He  knew  that  the  things  he  should 
say  would  lead  to  serious  results.  Nevertheless  he  went 
on  with  his  work,  and  every  sentence  he  wrote  or  shaped 
was  preceded  with  the  question,  "Would  Jesus  say  that?" 
Once  in  the  course  of  his  study,  he  went  down  on  his  knees. 
No  one  except  himself  could  know  what  that  meant  to  him. 
When  had  he  done  that  in  the  preparation  of  sermons, 
before  the  change  that  had  come  into  his  thought  of  disci- 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  98 

pleship?  As  he  viewed  his  ministry  now,  he  did  not  dare 
to  preach  without  praying  for  wisdom.  He  no  longer 
thought  of  his  dramatic  delivery  and  its  effect  on  his  audi- 
ence. The  great  question  with  him  now  was,  "What  would 
Jesus  do?" 

Saturday  night  at  the  Rectangle  witnessed  some  of  the 
most  remarkable  scenes  that  Mr.  Gray  and  his  wife  had 
ever  known.  The  meetings  had  intensified  with  each  night 
of  Rachel's  singing.  A  stranger  passing  through  the  Rec- 
tangle in  the  daytime  might  have  heard  a  good  deal  about 
the  meetings,  in  one  way  and  another.  It  cannot  be  said 
that,  up  to  that  Saturday  night,  there  was  any  appreciable 
lack  of  oaths  and  impurity  and  heavy  drinking.  The  Rec- 
tangle would  not  have  acknowledged  that  it  was  growing  any 
better,  or  that  even  the  singing  had  softened  its  conversa- 
tion, or  its  outward  manner.  It  had  too  much  local  pridf 
in  being  "tough."  But  in  spite  of  itself,  there  was  a  yield- 
ing to  a  power  it  had  never  measured  and  did  not  know 
well  enough  to  resist  beforehand. 

Gray  had  recovered  his  voice,  so  that  Saturday  he  was 
able  to  speak.  The  fact  that  he  was  obliged  to  use  his 
voice  carefully  made  it  necessary  for  the  people  to  be  very 
quiet  if  they  wanted  to  hear.  Gradually  they  had  come 
to  understand  that  this  man  was  talking  these  many  weeks. 
and  using  his  time  and  strength,  to  give  them  a  knowledge 
of  a  Savior,  all  out  of  a  perfectly  unselfish  love  for  them. 
To-night  the  great  crowd  was  as  quiet  as  Henry  Maxwell's 
decorous  audience  ever  was.  The  fringe  around  the  tent 
was  deeper,  and  the  saloons  were  practically  empty.  The 
Holy  Spirit  had  come  at  last,  and  Gray  knew  that  one  of 
the  great  prayers  of  his  life  was  going  to  be  answered. 

And  Rachel— her  singing  was  the  best,  most  wonderful, 


94  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Virginia  or  Jasper  Chase  had  ever  known.  They  had  come 
together  again  to-night  with  Dr.  West,  who  had  spent  all 
his  spare  time  that  week  in  the  Rectangle  with  some  char- 
ity cases.  Virginia  was  at  the  organ,  Jasper  sat  on  a 
front  seat  looking  up  at  Rachel,  and  the  Rectangle  swayed 
as  one  man  towards  the  platform  as  she  sang: 

"Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me. 
And  that  thou  bidst  me  come  to  thee, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  I  come." 

Gray  hardly  said  a  word.  He  stretched  out  his  hand 
with  a  gesture  of  invitation.  And  down  the  two  aisles  of 
the  tent,  broken,  sinful  creatures,  men  and  women,  stum- 
bled towards  the  platform.  One  woman  out  of  the  street 
was  near  the  organ.  Virginia  caught  the  look  of  her  face, 
and,  for  the  first  time  in  the  life  of  the  rich  girl,  the  thought 
of  what  Jesus  was  to  a  sinful  woman  came  with  a  sudden- 
ness and  power  that  was  like  nothing  but  a  new  birth.  Vir- 
ginia left  the  organ,  went  to  her,  looked  into  her  face  and 
caught  her  hands  in  her  own.  The  other  girl  trembled, 
then  fell  on  her  knees,  sobbing,  with  her  head  down  upon 
the  back  of  the  bench  in  front  of  her,  still  clinging  to 
Virginia.  And  Virginia,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  kneeled 
down  by  her  and  the  two  heads  were  bowed  close  together. 

But  when  the  people  had  crowded  in  a  double  row  all 
about  the  platform,  most  of  them  kneeling  and  crying,  a 
man  in  evening  dress,  different  from  the  others,  pushed 
through  the  seats  and  came  and  kneeled  down  by  the  side 
of  the  drunken  man  who  had  disturbed  the  meeting  when 
Henry  Maxwell  spoke.  He  kneeled  within  a  few  feet  of 
Rachel  Winslow,  who  was  still  singing  softly.  And  as  she 
turned  for  a  moment  and  looked  in  his  direction,  she  was 


"WHAT    WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  95 

amazed  to  see  the  face  of  Rollin  Page!     For  a  moment  her 
voice  faltered.    Then  she  went  on: 

"Just  as  I  am,  thou  wilt  receive, 
Wilt  welcome,  pardon,  cleanse,  relieve; 
Because  thy  promise  I  believe, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come,  I  come." 

The  voice  was  as  the  voice  of  divine  longing,  and  the 
Rectangle,  for  the  time  being,  was  swept  into  the  harbor 
of  redemptive  grace. 


CHAPTER  V- 

"If  any  man  serve  me,  let  him  follow  me." 

It  was  nearly  midnight  before  the  service  at  the  Rec- 
tangle closed.  Gray  stayed  up  long  into  Sunday  morning, 
praying  and  talking  with  a  little  group  of  converts  that, 
in  the  great  experience  of  their  new  life,  clung  to  the  evan- 
gelist with  a  personal  helplessness  that  made  it  as  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  leave  them  as  if  they  had  been  depending 
upon  him  to  save  them  from  physical  death.  Among  these 
converts  was  Rollin  Page. 

Yirginia  and  her  uncle  had  gone  home  about  eleven 
o'clock, and  Eachel  and  Jasper  Chase  had  gone  with  them 
as  far  as  the  avenue  where  Virginia  lived.  Dr.  West  had 
walked  on  a  little  way  with  them  to  his  own  house,  and 
Rachel  and  Jasper  had  then  gone  on  together  to  her  moth- 
er's. 

That  was  a  little  after  eleven.  It  was  now  striking  mid- 
night, and  Jasper  Chase  sat  in  his  room  staring  at  the 
papers  on  his  desk  and  going  over  the  last  half-hour  with 
painful  persistence. 

He  had  told  Rachel  Winslow  of  his  love  for  he^  and 
she  had  not  given  her  love  in  return. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  know  what  was  most  powerful 
in  the  impulse  that  had  moved  him  to  speak  to  her  to-night. 
He  had  yielded  to  his  feelings  without  any  special  thought 
of  results  to  himself,  because  he  had  felt  so  certain  that 
]  eachel  would  respond  to  his  love  for  her.      He  tried  to 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  97 

recall,  now,  just  the  Impression  sfie  made  on  him  when  he 
first  spoke  to  her. 

Never  had  her  beauty  and  her  strength  influenced  him 
as  to-night.  While  she  was  singing  he  saw  and  heard  no 
one  else.  The  tent  swarmed  with  a  confused  crowd  of 
faces,  and  he  knew  he  was  sitting  there  hemmed  in  by  a 
mob  of  people;  but  they  had  no  meaning  to  him.  He  felt 
powerless  to  avoid  speaking  to  her.  He  knew  he  should 
speak  when  they  Avere  once  alone. 

Now  that  he  had  spoken,  he  felt  that  he  had  misjudged 
either  Rachel  or  the  opportunity.  He  knew,  or  thought  he 
did,  that  she  had  begun  to  care  for  him.  It  was  no  secret 
between  them  that  the  heroine  of  Jasper's  first  novel  had 
been  his  own  ideal  of  Rachel,  and  the  hero  of  the  story  w^as 
himself,  and  they  had  loved  each  other  in  the  book,  and 
Rachel  had  not  objected.  No  one  else  knew\  The  names 
and  characters  had  been  drawn  with  a  subtle  skill  that 
revealed  to  Rachel,  when  she  received  a  copy  of  the  book 
from  Jasper,  the  fact  of  his  love  for  her,  and  she  had  not 
been  offended.    That  was  nearly  a  year  ago. 

To-night,  Jasper  Chase  recalled  the  scene  between  them, 
wMth  every  inflection  and  movement  unerased  from  his 
memory.  He  even  recalled  the  fact  that  he  began  to  speak 
just  at  that  point  on  the  avenue  where,  a  few  days  before, 
he  had  met  Rachel  Avalking  with  Rollin  Page.  He  had 
wondered  at  the  time,  what  Rollin  was  saying. 

"Rachel,"  Jasper  had  said,  and  it  was  the  first  time  he 
had  ever  spoken  her  first  name,  "I  never  knew  until 
to-night  how  much  I  love  you.  Why  should  I  try  to  con- 
ceal any  longer  what  you  have  seen  me  look  ?  You  know  I 
love  you  as  my  life.  I  can  no  longer  hide  it  from  you  if 
I  would." 


98  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

The  first  intimation  he  had  of  a  refusal  was  the 
trembling  of  Rachel's  arm  in  his  own.  She  had  allowed 
him  to  speak  and  had  neither  turned  her  face  towards  him 
nor  away  from  him.  She  had  looked  straight  on,  and  her 
voice  was  sad  but  firm  and  quiet  when  she  spoke. 

"Why  do  you  speak  to  me  now?  I  cannot  bear  it— after 
what  we  have  seen  to-night." 

"Why— what— "  he  had  stammered,  and  then  was  silent. 

Rachel  withdrew  her  arm  from  his,  but  still  walked 
near  him. 

Then  he  cried  out,  with 'the  anguish  of  one  who  begins 
to  see  a  great  loss  facing  him  where  he  expected  a  great 
.joy. 

"Rachel I  Do  you  not  love  me?  Is  not  my  love  for  you 
as  sacred  as  anything  in  all  of  life  Itself?" 

She  had  walked  on  silent  for  a  few  steps,  after  that. 
They  had  passed  a  street  lamp.  Her  face  was  pale  and 
beautiful.  He  had  made  a  movement  to  clutch  her  arm. 
And  she  had  moved  a  little  farther  from  him. 

"No,"  she  had  replied.  "There  was  a  time— I  cannot 
answer  for  that-you  should  not  have  spoken  to  me 
to-night." 

He  had  seen  in  these  words  his  answer.  He  was 
extremely  sensitive.  Nothing  short  of  a  joyous  response  to 
his  own  love  would  have  satisfied  him.  He  could  not  think 
of  pleading  with  her. 

"Some  time— when  I  am  more  worthy?"  he  had  asked  in 
a  low  voice;  but  she  did  not  seem  to  hear,  and  they  had 
parted  at  her  home,  and  he  recalled  vividly  the  fact  that 
no  good-night  had  been  said. 

Now  as  he  went  over  the  brief  but  significant  scene, 
he  lashed  himself  for  his  foolish  precipitancy.    He  had  not 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  99 

reckoned  on  Rachel's  tense,  passionate  absorption  of  all 
her  feeling  in  the  scenes  at  the  tent  which  were  so  new  in 
her  mind.  But  he  did  not  know  her  well  enough,  even  yet, 
to  understand  the  meaning  of  her  refusal.  When  the  clock 
in  the  First  Church  steeple  struck  one,  he  was  still  sitting 
at  his  desk,  staring  at  the  last  page  of  manuscript  of  his 
unfinished  novel. 

Rachel  Winslow  went  up  to  her  room  and  faced  her 
evening's  experience  with  conflicting  emotions.  Had  she 
ever  loved  Jasper  Chase?  Yes.  No.  One  moment  she 
felt  that  her  life's  happiness  was  at  stake  over  the 
result  of  her  action.  Another,  she  had  a  strange  feel- 
ing of  relief  that  she  had  spoken  as  she  did. 
There  was  one  great  overmastering  feeling  in  her. 
The  response  of  the  wretched  creatures  in  the  tent  to 
her  singing,  the  swift,  awesome  presence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  had  affected  her  as  never  in  all  her  life  before.  The 
moment  Jasper  had  spoken  her  name  and  she  realized 
that  he  was  telling  her  of  his  love,  she  had  felt  a  sudden 
revulsion  for  him,  as  if  he  should  have  respected  the  super- 
natural events  they  had  just  witnessed.  She  felt  as  if  it 
were  not  the  time  to  be  absorbed  in  anj'thing  less  than 
the  divine  glory  of  those  conversions.  The  thought  that 
all  the  time  she  was  singing  with  the  one  passion  of  her 
soul  to  touch  the  conscience  of  that  tent  full  of  sin,  Jasper 
Chase  had  been  moved  by  it  simply  to  love  her  for  himself, 
gave  her  a  shock  as  of  irreverence  on  her  part  as  well  as 
on  his.  She  could  not  tell  why  she  felt  as  she  did,  only  she 
knew  that  if  he  had  not  told  her  to-night  she  would  still 
have  felt  the  same  towards  him  as  she  always  had.  What 
was  that  feeling?  What  had  he  been  to  her?  Had  she 
made  a  mistake?    She  went  to  her  book-case  and  took  out 


100  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

the  novel  which  Jasper  had  given  her.  Her  face  deepened 
in  color  as  she  turned  to  certain  passages  which  she  had 
read  often  and  which  she  knew  Jasper  had  written  for 
her.  She  read  them  again.  Somehow  they  failed  to 
touch  her  stronglj-.  She  closed  the  book  and  let  it  lie  on 
the  table.  She  gradually  felt  that  her  thought  was  busy 
with  the  sight  she  had  witnessed  in  that  tent.  These  faces, 
men  and  women,  touched  for  the  first  time  with  the 
Spirit's  glory— what  a  wonderful  thing  life  was  after  all: 
The  complete  regeneration  revealed  in  the  sight  of  drunken, 
vile,  debauched  humanity  kneeling  down  to  give  itself  to 
a  life  of  purity  and  Christlikeness— oh,  it  was  surely  a  wit- 
ness to  the  superhuman  in  the  world!  And  the  face  of 
Rollin  Page  by  the  side  of  that  miserable  wreck  out  of  the 
gutter— she  could  recall  as  if  she  now  saw  it,  Virginia  cry- 
ing with  her  arms  about  her  brother  just  before  she  left 
the  tent,  and  Mr.  Gray  kneeling  close  by,  and  the  girl  Vir- 
ginia had  taken  into  her  heart  bending  her  head  while  Vir- 
ginia whispered  something  to  her.  All  these  pictures  drawn 
by  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  human  tragedies  brought  to  a 
climax  there  in  the  most  abandoned  spot  in  all  Raymond, 
stood  out  in  Rachel's  memory  now,  a  memory  so  recent  that 
her  room  seemed  for  the  time  being  to  contain  all  the  actors 
and  their  movements. 

"No I  No!"  She  had  said  aloud.  "He  had  no  right  to 
speak  to  me  after  all  that!  He  should  have  respected  the 
place  where  our  thoughts  should  have  been!  I  am  sure  1 
do  not  love  him.    Not  enough  to  give  him  my  life!" 

And  after  she  had  thus  spoken,  the  evening's  experience 
at  the  tent  came  crowding  in  again,  thrusting  out  all  other 
things.  It  is  perhaps  the  most  striking  evidence  of  the 
tremendous  spiritual  factor  which  had  now  entered  the 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  TtOV  101 

Rectangle  that  Kachel  felt,  even  when  the  great  love  of  a 
strong  man  had  come  very  near  to  her,  that  the  spiritual 
manifestation  moved  her  with  an  agitation  far  greater  than 
anything  Jasper  had  felt  for  her  personally,  or  she  for  him. 
The  people  of  Raymond  awoke  Sunday  morning  to  a 
growing  knowledge  of  events  which  were  beginning  to 
revolutionize  many  of  the  regular,  customary  habits  of  the 
town.  Alexander  Powers's  action  in  the  matter  of  the 
railroad  frauds  had  created  a  sensation,  not  only  in  Ray- 
mond but  throughout  the  country.  Edward  Norman's 
daily  changes  of  policy  in  the  conduct  of  his  paper  had  star- 
tled the  community  and  caused  more  comment  than  any 
recent  political  event.  Rachel  AVinslow's  singing  at  the 
Rectangle  meetings  had  made  a  stir  in  society  and  excited 
the  wonder  of  all  her  friends.  Virginia  Page's  conduct, 
her  presence  every  night  with  Rachel,  her  absence  from  the 
usual  circle  of  her  wealthy,  fashionable  acquaintances,  had 
furnished  a  great  deal  of  material  for  gossip  and  question. 
In  addition  to  these  events  which  centered  about  these  per- 
sons who  were  so  well  known,  there  had  been  all  through 
the  city,  in  very  many  homes  and  in  business  and  social 
circles,  strange  happenings.  Nearly  one  hundred  persons 
in  Henry  :Maxweirs  church  had  made  the  pledge  to  do 
everything  after  asking,  "What  would  Jesus  do?"  and  the 
result  had  been,  in  many  cases,  unheard-of  actions.  The 
city  was  stirred  as  it  had  never  been.  As  a  climax  to 
the  week's  events  had  come  the  spiritual  manifestation  at 
the  Rectangle,  and  the  announcement  which  came  to  most 
people  before  church  time  of  the  actual  conversion  at  the 
tent  of  nearly  fifty  of  the  worst  characters  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, together  with  the  conversion  of  RoUin  Page,  the  well- 
known  society  and  club  man. 


102  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

It  is  no  wonder  that,  under  the  pressure  of  all  this, 
the  First  Church  of  Raymond  came  to  the  morning  service 
in  a  condition  that  made  it  quickly  sensitive  to  any  large 
truth. 

Perhaps  nothing  had  astonished  the  people  more  than  the 
great  change  that  had  come  over  the  minister  since  he  had 
proposed  to  them  the  imitation  of  Jesus  in  conduct.  The  dra- 
matic delivery  of  his  sermons  no  longer  impressed  them. 
The  self-satisfied,  contented,  easy  attitude  of  the  fine  figure 
and  the  refined  face  in  the  pulpit,  had  been  displaced  by 
a  manner  that  could  not  be  compared  with  the  old  style 
of  his  delivery.  The  sermon  had  become  a  message.  It  was 
no  longer  delivered.  It  was  brought  to  them  with  a  love, 
an  earnestness,  a  passion,  a  desire,  a  humility,  that  poured 
its  enthusiasm  about  the  truth  and  made  the  speaker  no 
more  prominent  than  he  had  to  be  as  the  living  voice  of 
God.  His  prayers  were  unlike  any  the  people  had  ever 
heard  before.  They  were  often  broken,  even  once  or 
twice  they  had  been  actually  ungrammatical  in  a  phrase 
or  two.  When  had  Henry  Maxwell  so  far  forgotten  him- 
self in  a  prayer  as  to  make  a  mistake  of  that  sort?  He 
knew  that  he  had  often  taken  as  much  pride  in  the  diction 
and  the  delivery  of  his  prayers  as  of  his  sermons.  Was  it 
possible  he  now  so  abhorred  the  elegant  refinement  of  a 
formal  public  petition  that  he  purposely  chose  to  rebuke 
himself  for  his  previous  precise  manner  of  prayer?  It  is 
more  likely  that  he  had  no  thought  of  all  that.  His 
great  longing  to  voice  the  needs  and  wants  of  his  people 
made  him  unmindful  of  an  occasional  mistake.  It  is  cer- 
tain he  had  never  prayed  so  effectively  as  he  did  now. 

There  are  times  when  a.  sermon  has  a  value  and  power 
due  to  conditions  in  the  audience  rather  than  to  anything 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  108 

new  or  startling  or  eloquent  in  the  words  or  the  arguments 
presented.  Such  conditions  faced  Henry  Maxwell  this 
morning  as  he  preached  against  the  saloon,  according  to  his 
purpose  determined  on  the  week  before.  He  had  no  new 
statements  to  make  about  the  evil  influence  of  the  saloon 
in  Kaymond.  What  new  facts  were  tliere?  He  had  no 
startling  illustrations  of  the  power  of  the  saloon  in  busi- 
ness or  politics.  What  could  he  say  that  had  not  been 
said  by  temperance  orators  a  great  many  times?  The  effect 
of  his  message  this  morning  owed  its  power  to  the  unusual 
fact  of  his  preaching  about  the  saloon  at  all,  together  with 
the  events  that  had  stirred  the  people.  He  had  never  in  the 
course  of  his  ten  years'  pastorate  mentioned  the  saloon  as 
something  to  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  an  enemy,  not  only 
to  the  poor  and  the  tempted,  but  to  the  business  life  of  the 
place  and  the  church  itself.  He  spoke  now  with  a  freedom 
that  seemed  to  measure  his  complete  sense  of  the  con- 
viction that  Jesus  would  speak  so.  At  the  close  he  pleaded 
with  the  people  to  remember  the  new  life  that  had  begun 
at  the  Rectangle.  The  regular  election  of  city  officers  was 
near  at  hand.  The  question  of  license  would  be  an  issue 
in  that  election.  What  of  the  poor  creatures  surrounded  by 
the  hell  of  drink  while  just  beginning  to  feel  the  joy  of 
deliverance  from  sin?  Who  could  tell  what  depended  on 
their  environment?  AYas  there  one  word  to  be  said  by  the 
Christian  disciple,  business  man,  professional  man,  citizen, 
in  favor  of  continuing  to  license  these  crime  and  shame- 
producing  institutions?  Was  not  the  most  Christian  thing 
they  could  do  to  act  as  citizens  in  the  matter,  fight  the 
saloon  at  the  polls,  elect  good  men  to  the  city  oftices,  and 
clean  the  municipality?  How  much  had  prayers  helped  to 
make  Kaymond  better  while  votes  and  actions  had  really 


104  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

been  on  the  side  of  the  enemies  of  Jesus?  Would  not  Jesus 
do  this?  What  disciple  could  imagine  Him  refusing  to 
suffer  or  take  up  His  cross  in  the  matter?  How  much  had 
the  members  of  the  First  Church  ever  suffered  in  an 
attempt  to  imitate  Jesus?  Was  Christian  discipleship  a 
thing  of  convenience,  of  custom,  of  tradition?  Where  did 
the  suffering  come  in?  Was  it  necessary  in  order  to  follow 
Jesus'  steps  to  go  up  Calvary  as  well  as  the  Mount  of  Trans- 
figuration? 

His  appeal  was  stronger  at  this  point  than  he  knew.  It 
is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  spiritual  tension  of  the 
First  Church  reached  its  highest  point  right  there.  The  imi- 
tation of  Jesus  which  had  begun  with  the  volunteers  in  the 
church  was  Avorking  like  leaven  in  the  organization,  and 
Henry  Maxwell  would,  even  this  early  in  his  new  life, 
have  been  amazed  if  he  could  have  measured  the  extent 
of  desire  on  the  part  of  his  people  to  take  up  the  cross. 
While  he  was  speaking  this  morning,  before  he  closed  with 
a  loving  appeal  to  the  discipleship  of  two  thousand  years' 
knowledge  of  the  Master,  many  a  man  and  woman  in  the 
church  was  saying,  as  Rachel  had  said  so  passionately  to 
her  mother,  "I  want  to  do  something  that  will  cost  me 
something  in  the  way  of  sacrifice;"  "I  am  hungry  to  suffer 
something."  Truly  Mazzini  was  right  when  he  said,  "No 
appeal  is  quite  so  powerful  in  the  end  as  the  call,  'Come 
and  suffer.'  " 

The  service  was  over,  the  great  audience  had  gone,  and 
Henry  Maxwell  again  faced  the  company  gathered  in  the 
lecture-room  as  on  the  two  previous  Sundays.  He  had 
asked  all  to  remain  who  had  made  the  pledge  of  disciple- 
ship, and  any  others  who  wished  to  be  included.  The  after- 
service  seemed  now  to  be  a  necessity.    As  he  went  in  and 


"WHAf'^-^OULD  JESUS  DO?"  105 

faced  the  people  there,  his  heart  trembled.  There  were  at 
least  t\\  0  hundred  present.  The  Holy  Spirit  was  never  so 
manifest.  He  missed  Jasper  Chase.  But  all  the  others 
were  present.  He  asked  Milton  Wright  to  pray.  The  very 
air  was  charged  with  divine  possibilities.  What  could  resist 
such  a  baptism  of  power?  How  had  they  lived  all  these 
years  without  it? 

They  counseled  together,  and  there  were  many  prayers. 
Henry  Maxwell  dated  from  that  meeting  some  of  the  seri- 
ous events  that  afterwards  became  a  part  of  the  history 
of  the  First  Church  of  Raymond.  When  finally  they  went 
home,  all  of  them  were  impressed  with  the  joy  of  the 
Spirit's  power. 

Donald  Marsh,  President  of  Lincoln  College,  walked 
home  with  Henry  Maxwell. 

"I  have  reached  one  conclusion.  Maxwell,"  said  Marsh 
speaking  slowly.  "I  have  found  my  cross,  and  it  is  a 
heavy  one;  but  I  shall  never  be  satisfied  until  I  take  it  up 
and  carry  it." 

Maxwell  was  silent  and  the  President  went  on. 

"Your  sermon  to-day  made  clear  to  me  what  I  have  long 
been  feeling  I  ought  to  do.  What  would  Jesus  do  in  my 
place?  I  have  asked  the  question  repeatedly  since  I  made 
my  promise.  I  have  tried  to  satisfy  myself  that  he  would 
simply  go  on  as  I  have  done,  tending  to  the  duties  of  my 
college,  teaching  the  classes  in  Ethics  and  Philosophy.  But 
1  have  not  been  able  to  avoid  the  feeling  that  he  would  do 
something  more.  That  something  is  what  I  do  not  want  to 
do.  It  will  cause  me  genuine  suffering  to  do  it.  I  dreatl  it 
with  all  my  soul.     You  may  be  able  to  guess  what  it  is?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  know,"  Henry  ^laxwell  replied.  "It  is 
my  cross,  too.    I  would  almost  rather  do  any  thing  else." 


106  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Donald  Marsh  looked  surprised,  then  relieved.  Then  he 
spoke  sadly,  but  with  great  conviction. 

"Maxwell,  you  and  1  belong  to  a  class  of  professional 
men  w^ho  have  always  avoided  the  duties  of  citizenship. 
We  have  lived  in  a  little  world  of  scholarly  seclusion, 
doing  work  we  have  enjoyed,  and  shrinking  from  the  dis- 
agreeable duties  that  belong  to  the  life  of  the  citizen.  I 
confess  with  shame  that  I  have  purposely  avoided  the 
responsibility  that  I  owe  to  this  city  personally.  I  under- 
stand that  our  city  officials  are  a  corrupt,  unprincipled  set 
of  men,  controlled  in  large  part  by  the  whisky  element, 
and  thoroughly  selfish  so  far  as  the  affairs  of  city  govern- 
ment are  concerned.  Yet  all  these  years  I,  with  nearly 
every  teacher  in  the  college,  have  been  satisfied  to  let  other 
men  run  the  municipality,  and  have  lived  in  a  little  world 
of  my  own,  out  of  touch  and  sympathy  with  the  real  world 
of  the  people.  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  I  have  tried  even 
to  avoid  an  honest  answer.  I  can  no  longer  do  so.  My 
plain  duty  is  to  take  a  personal  part  in  this  coming  election, 
go  to  the  primaries,  throw  the  weight  of  my  influence, 
whatever  it  is,  towards  the  nomination  and  election 
of  good  men,  and  plunge  into  the  very  depths  of 
this  entire  horrible  Avhirlpool  of  deceit,  bribery, 
political  trickery  and  saloonism  as  it  exists  in  Ray- 
mond to-day.  I  would  sooner  walk  up  to  the  mouth 
of  a  cannon  any  time  than  do  this.  I  dread  it  because 
I  hate  the  touch  of  the  whole  matter.  I  would  give  almost 
anything  to  be  able  to  say,  'I  do  not  believe  Jesus  would  do 
anything  of  the  sort.'  But  I  am  more  and  more  persuaded 
that  He  Avould.  This  is  where  the  suffering  comes  to 
me.  It  would  not  hurt  me  half  so  much  to  lose  my  position 
or  my  home.    I  loathe  the  contact  with  this  municipal  prob- 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DOV"  107 

lern.  I  would  much  prefer  to  remain  quietly  iu  my  scholas- 
tic life  with  my  classes  in  Ethics  and  Philosophy.  But  the 
call  has  come  to  me  so  plainly  that  I  cannot  escape:  'Donald 
Marsh,  follow  me.  Do  your  duty  as  a  citizen  of  Raymond 
at  the  point  where  your  citizenship  will  cost  you  some- 
thing. Help  to  cleanse  this  great  municipal  stable,  even  if 
you  do  have  to  soil  j'our  aristocratic  feelings  a  little.'  Max- 
well, this  is  my  cross.  I  must  take  it  up  or  deny  my 
Lord." 

"You  have  spoken  for  me  also,"  replied  Maxwell,  with  a 
sad  smile.  "Why  should  I,  simply  because  I  am  a  clergy- 
man, shelter  myself  behind  my  refined,  sensitive  feelings 
and,  like  a  coward,  refuse  to  touch,  except  in  a  sermon  pos- 
sibly, the  duty  of  citizeoship?  I  am  unused  to  the  ways 
of  the  political  life  of  the  city.  I  have  never  taken  an  active 
part  in  any  nomination  of  good  men.  There  are  hundreds 
of  ministers  like  me.  As  a  class,  we  do  not  practice,  iu 
tlie  municipal  life,  the  duties  and  privileges  we  preach  from 
the  pulpit.  What  would  Jesus  do?  I  am  now  at  a  point 
where,  like  you,  I  am  driven  to  answer  the  question  one 
way.  My  duty  is  plain.  I  must  suffer.  All  my  parish 
work,  all  my  little  trials  or  self-sacrifices,  are  as  nothing 
to  me  compared  with  the  breaking  into  my  scholarly,  intel- 
lectual, self-contained  habits  of  this  open,  coarse,  public 
fight  for  a  clean  city  life.  I  could  go  and  live  at  the  Rec- 
tangle the  rest  of  my  days  and  work  in  the  slums  for  a  bare 
living  and  I  could  enjoy  it  more  than  the  thought  of  plung- 
ing into  a  fight  for  the  reform  of  this  whisky-ridden  city. 
It  would  cost  me  less.  But  with  you  I  have  been  unable 
to  shake  off  my  responsibility.  The  answer  to  the  question, 
'What  would  Jesus  do?'  in  this  case  leaves  me  no  peace, 
except  when  T  say,  'Jesus  would  have  me  act  the  part  of 


108  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

a  Christian  citizen.'  Marsli,  as  you  say,  we  professional 
jnen,  ministers,  professors,  artists,  literary  men,  scholars, 
liave  almost  invariably  been  political  cowards.  We  have 
avoided  the  sacred  duties  of  citizenship,  either  ignorantly 
or  selfishly.  Certainly  Jesus,  in  our  age,  would  not  do 
that.  We  can  do  no  less  than  take  up  this  cross  and  follow 
Him." 

These  two  men  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  while.  Finally 
President  Marsh  said, 

"We  do  not  need  to  act  alone  In  this  matter.  With  all 
the  men  who  have  made  the  promise,  we  certainly  can  have 
companionship  and  strength,  even  of  numbers.  Let  us 
organize  the  Christian  forces  of  Raymond  for  the  battle 
against  rum  and  corruption.  We  certainly  ought  to  enter 
the  primaries  with  a  force  that  will  be  able  to  do  more 
than  utter  a  protest.  It  is  a  fact  that  the  saloon  element 
is  cowardly  and  easily  frightened,  in  spite  of  its  lawless- 
ness and  corruption.  Let  us  plan  a  campaign  that  will 
mean  something,  because  it  is  organized  righteousness.  Jesus 
would  use  great  wisdom  in  this  matter.  He  would  employ 
means.  He  would  make  large  plans.  Let  us  do  so.  If 
we  bear  this  cross,  let  us  do  it  bravely,  like  men." 

They  talked  over  the  matter  a  long  time,  and  met  again 
the  next  day  in  Henry  Maxwell's  study  to  develop  plans. 
The  city  primaries  were  called  for  Friday.  Rumors  of 
strange  and  unheard-of  events  to  the  average  citizen  were 
current  in  political  circles  throughout  Raymond.  The 
Crawford  system  of  balloting  for  nominations  was  not  in 
use  in  the  state,  and  the  primary  was  called  for  a  public 
meeting  at  the  court-house. 

The  citizens  of  Raymond  will  never  forget  that  meet- 
ing. It  was  so  unlike  any  political  meeting  ever  held  in  Ray- 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  109 

mond  before,  that  there  was  no  attempt  at  comparison. 
The  special  officers  to  be  nominated  were  Mayor,  City  Coun- 
cil, Chief  of  Police,  City  Clerk,  and  City  Treasurer. 

The  "Evening  News,"  in  its  Saturday  edition,  gave  a 
full  account  of  the  primaries,  and  in  the  editorial  column 
Edward  Norman  spoke  with  a  directness  and  conviction 
that  the  Christian  people  of  Ptaymond  were  learning  to 
respect  deeply,  because  it  was  so  evidently  sincere  and 
unselfish.  A  part  of  that  editorial  is  also  a  part  of  this  his- 
tory: 

''It  is  safe  to  say  that  never  before  in  the  history  of  Raymond 
was  there  a  primary  J  ike  the  one  in  the  court-house  last  night. 
It  was,  first  of  all,  a  complete  surprise  to  the  city  poUticians, 
who  have  been  in  the  habit  of  carrying  on  the  affairs  of  the  city 
as  if  they  owned  them  and  every  one  else  was  simply  a  tool  or  a 
cipher.  The  over-whelming  surprise  of  the  wire-puller  last  night 
consisted  in  the  fact  that  a  large  number  of  the  citizens  of  Ray- 
mond who  have  heretofore  taken  no  part  in  the  city  affairs, 
entered  the  primary  and  controlled  it,  nominating  some  of  the 
best  men  for  all  the  offices  to  be  filled  at  the  coming  election. 

It  was  a  tremendous  lesson  in  good  citizenship.  President 
Marsh  of  Lincoln  College,  who  never  before  entered"  a  city  pri- 
mary, and  whose  face  even  was  not  known  to  many  of  the  ward 
politicians,  made  one  of  the  best  speeches  ever  heard  in  Raymond. 
It  was  almost  ludicrous  to  see  the  faces  of  the  men  who  for  years 
have  done  as  they  pleased,  when  President  Marsh  rose  to  speak. 
Many  of  them  asked,  'Who  is  he?'  The  consternation  deepened 
as  the  primary  proceeded,  and  it  became  evident  that  the  old- 
time  ring  of  city  rulers  was  outnumbered.  Henry  Maxwell,  Pas- 
tor of  the  First  Church,  Milton  Wright,  Alexander  Powers,  Pro- 
fessors Brown,  Willard  and  Park  of  Lincoln  College,  Rev.  John 
West,  Dr.  George  Maine  of  the  Pilgrim  Church,  Dean  Ward  of  the 
Holy  Trinity,  and  scores  of  well-known  business  and  professional 
men.  most  of  them  church  members,  were  present,  and  it  did  not 
take  long  to  eee  that  they  had  all  come  with  the  direct  and  defi- 


110  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

uite  purpose  of  nominating  the  best  men  possible.  Most  of  these 
men  had  never  been  seen  in  a  primary.  They  were  complete 
strangers  to  the  politicians.  But  they  had  evidently  profited  by 
the  politician's  methods  and  were  able,  by  organized  and  united 
effort,  to  nominate  the  entire  ticket. 

"As  soon  as  it  became  plain  that  the  primary  was  out  of  their 
control,  the  regular  ring  withdrew  in  disgust  and  nominated 
another  ticket.  The  'News'  simply  calls  the  attention  of  all 
decent  citizens  to  the  fact  that  this  last  ticket  contains  the  names 
of  whisky  men,  and  the  line  is  distinctly  and  sharply  drawn 
between  the  machine  and  corrupt  city  government,  such  as  we 
have  known  for  years,  and  a  clean,  honest,  capable,  business-like 
city  administration,  such  as  every  good  citizen  ought  to  want.  It 
is  not  necessary  to  remind  the  people  of  Raymond  that  the  ques- 
tion of  local  option  comes  up  at  the  election.  That  will  be  the 
most  important  question  on  the  ticket.  The  crisis  of  our  city 
fttfairs  has  been  reached.  The  issue  is  squarely  before  us.  Shall 
we  continue  the  rule  of  rum  and  boodle  and  shameless  incom- 
petency, or  shall  we,  as  President  Marsh  said  in  h*s  noble  speech, 
rise  as  good  citizens  and  begin  a  new  order  of  things,  cleansing  our 
city  of  the  worst  enemy  known  to  municipal  honestj^  and  doing 
what  lies  in  our  power  to  do  with  the  ballot,  to  purify  our 
civic  life? 

The  'News'  is,  positively  and  without  reservation,  on  the  side 
of  the  new  movement.  We  shall  henceforth  do  all  in  our  power 
to  drive  out  the  saloon  and  destroy  its  political  strength.  We 
shall  advocate  the  election  of  men  nominated  by  the  majority 
of  citizens  met  in  the  first  primary,  and  we  call  upon  all  Chris- 
tians, church  members  and  lovers  of  right,  purity,  temperance, 
and  home,  to  stand  by  President  Marsh  and  the  rest  of  the  citi- 
zens who  have  thus  begun  a  long-needed  reform  in  our  city. 

President  Marsh  read  this  editorial  and  thanked  God 
for  Edward  'Norman.  At  the  same  time  he  understood 
well  enough  that  every  other  paper  in  Raymond  was  on 
the  other  side.  He  did  not  misunderstand  the  importance 
and  seriousness  of  the  fight  which  was  only  just  begun. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  Ill 

It  was  no  secret  tbat  the  "News"  had  lost  enormously  since 
it  had  been  governed  by  the  standard  of,  "What  would 
Jesus  do?"  The  question  now  was,  "Would  the  Christian 
people  of  Raymond  stand  by  it?"  Would  they  make  it  pos- 
sible for  Norman  to  conduct  a  daily  Christian  paper?  Or 
would  their  desire  for  what  is  called  "news,"  in  the  way  of 
crime,  scandal,  political  partisanship  of  the  regular  sort, 
and  a  dislike  to  champion  so  remarkable  a  reform  in  jour- 
nalism, influence  them  to  drop  the  paper  and  refuse  to  give 
it  their  financial  support?  That  was,  in  fact,  the  question 
Edward  Norman  was  asking,  even  while  he  wrote  the  Sat- 
urday editorial.  He  knew  well  enough  that  his  action 
expressed  in  that  editorial  would  cost  him  very  dearly 
from  the  hands  of  many  business  men  of  Raymond.  And 
still,  as  he  drove  his  pen  over  the  paper,  he  asked  another 
question,  "What  would  Jesus  do?"  That  question  had 
become  a  part  of  his  whole  life  now.  It  was  greater  than 
anj'^  other. 

But,  for  the  first  time  in  its  history,  Raymond  had  seen 
the  professional  men,  the  teachers,  the  college  professors, 
the  doctors,  the  ministers,  take  political  action  and  put 
themselves  definitely  and  sharply  in  antagonism  to  the  evil 
forces  that  had  so  long  controlled  the  machine  of  the 
muuicipal  government.  The  fact  itself  was  astonishing. 
President  Marsh  acknowledged  to  himself  with  a  feeling  of 
humiliation,  that  never  before  had  he  known  what  civic 
righteousness  could  accomplish.  From  that  Friday  night's 
work  he  dated  for  himself  and  his  college  a  new  definition 
of  the  worn  phrase,  "the  Scholar  in  Politics."  Education 
for  him  and  those  who  were  under  his  iufiuence,  ever  after 
meant  some  element  of  suffering.  Sacrifice  must  now  enter 
into  the  factor  of  development. 


113  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

At  the  Rectangle  that  week,  the  tide  of  spiritual  life 
rose  high,  and  as  yet  showed  no  signs  of  flowing  bad:. 
Rachel  and  Virginia  went  every  night.  Virginia  was 
rapidly  reaching  a  conclusion  with  respect  to  a  large 
part  of  her  money.  She  had  talked  it  over  with 
Rachel,  and  they  had  been  able  to  agree  that  if  Jesus  had 
a  vast  amount  of  money  at  his  disposal  he  might  do  with 
some  of  it  as  Virginia  plannetl.  At  any  rate,  they  felt 
that  whatever  Jesus  might  do  in  such  a  case  would  have  as 
large  an  element  of  variety  in  it  as  the  difference  in  per- 
sons and  circumstances.  There  could  be  no  one,  fixed, 
Christian  way  of  using  money.  The  rule  that  regulated  its 
use  was  unselfish  utility. 

But  meanwhile  the  glory  of  the  Spirit's  power  pos- 
sessed all  their  best  thought.  Night  after  night  that  week 
witnessed  miracles  as  great  as  walking  on  the  sea,  or  feed- 
ing the  multitude  with  a  few  loaves  and  fishes.  For  what 
greater  miracle  than  a  regenerated  humanity  ?  The  trans- 
formation of  these  coarse,  brutal,  sottish  lives,  into  pray- 
ing rapturous  lovers  of  Jesus,  struck  Rachel  and  Virginia 
every  time  with  the  feelings  that  people  may  have  had 
when  they  saw  Lazarus  walk  out  of  the  tomb.  It  was  an 
experience  full  of  profound  excitement  to  them. 

Rollin  Page  came  to  all  the  meetings.  There  was  no 
doubt  of  the  change  that  had  come  over  him.  He  was  won- 
derfully quiet.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  thinking  all  the 
time.  Certainly  he  was  not  the  same  person.  He 
talked  more  with  Gray  than  with  any  one  else.  He 
did  nol  avoid  Rachel,  but  he  seemed  to  shrink  from  any 
appearance  of  seeming  to  wish  to  renew  the  old  acquaint- 
ance with  her.  Rachel  found  it  even  difficult  to  express  to 
him  her  pleasure  at  the  new  life  he  had  begun  to  know. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  113 

He  seemed  to  be  waiting  to  adjust  himself  to  his  previous 
relations  before  this  new  life  began.  He  had  not  forgot- 
ten Those  relations.  But  he  was  not  yet  able  to  fit  his  con- 
sciousness into  new  ones. 

The  end  of  the  week  found  the  Rectangle  struggling 
hard  between  two  mighty  opposing  forces.  The  Holy  Spirit 
was  battling  with  all  his  supernatural  strength  against  the 
saloon  devil  which  had  so  long  held  a  jealous  grasp  on  its 
slaves.  If  the  Christian  people  of  Raymond  once  could 
realize  what  the  contest  meant  to  the  souls  newly  awaliened 
to  a  new  life,  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  the  election 
could  result  in  the  old  system  of  license.  But  that  remained 
yet  to  be  seen.  The  horror  of  the  daily  surroundings  of 
many  of  the  converts  was  slowly  burning  its  way  into  the 
knowledge  of  Virginia  and  Rachel,  and  every  night  as  thay 
went  up  town  to  their  luxurious  homes  they  carried  heav- 
ier hearts. 

"A  good  many  of  those  poor  creatures  will  go  back 
again,"  Gray  would  say  with  a  sadness  too  deep  for  tears. 
"The  environment  does  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the 
character.  It  does  not  stand  to  reason  that  these  people 
can  always  resist  the  sight  and  smell  of  the  devilish  drink 
all  about  them.  O  Lord!  how  long  shall  Christian  people 
continue  to  support,  by  their  silence  and  their  ballots,  the 
greatest  form  of  slavery  now  known  in  America?" 

He  asked  the  question,  and  did  not  have  much  hopes 
of  an  immediate  answer.  There  was  a  ray  of  hope  in  the 
action  of  Friday  night's  primary;  but  what  the  result  would 
be,  he  did  not  dare  to  anticipate.  The  whisky  forces  were 
organized,  alert,  aggressive,  roused  into  unusual  hatred  by 
the  events  of  the  last  week  at  the  tent  and  in  the  city. 
Would  the  Christian  force  act  as  a  unit  against  the  saloon? 


114  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Or  would  it  be  divided  on  account  of  its  business  interests, 
or  because  it  was  not  in  tlie  habit  of  acting  altogether,  as 
the  whisky  powers  always  did?  That  remained  to  be  seen. 
Meanwhile  the  saloon  reared  itself  about  the  Rectangle  like 
some  deadly  viper,  hissing  and  coiling,  ready  to  strike  its 
poison  into  any  unguarded  part. 

Saturday  afternoon,  as  Virginia  was  just  stepping  out 
of  her  house  to  go  and  see  Rachel  to  talk  over  her  new  plans, 
a  carriage  drove  up  containing  three  of  her  fashionable 
friends.  "Virginia  went  out  to  the  driveway  and  stood  there 
talking  with  them.  They  had  not  come  to  make  a  formal 
call,  but  wanted  Virginia  to  go  riding  with  them  up  on  the 
boulevard.  There  was  a  band  concert  in  the  Park.  The 
day  was  too  pleasant  to  be  spent  in  doors, 

"Where  have  you  been  all  this  time,  Virginia?"  asked 
one  of  the  girls,  tapping  her  playfully  on  the  shoulder  with 
a  red  silk  parasol.  "We  hear  that  you  have  gone  into  the 
show  business.    Tell  us  about  it." 

Virginia  colored,  but  after  a  moment's  hesitation  she 
frankly  told  something  of  her  experience  at  the  Rectangle. 
The  girls  in  the  carriage  began  to  be  really  interested. 

"Tell  you  what,  girls,  let's  go  slumming  with  Virginia 
this  afternoon  instead  of  going  to  the  band  concert!  I've 
never  been  down  to  the  Rectangle.  I've  heard  it's  an  awful 
wicked  place  and  lots  to  see.  Virginia  will  act  as  a  guide, 
and  it  would  be  real,"— "fun,"  she  was  going  to  say, but  Vir- 
ginia's look  made  her  substitute  the  word,  "interesting." 

Virginia  was  angry.  At  first  thought  she  said  to 
herself  she  would  never  go  under  any  such  circumstances. 
The  other  girls  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  mind  as  the 
speaker.  They  chimed  in  with  earnestness  and  asked  Vir- 
ginia to  take  them  down  there. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  115 

Suddenly  she  saw  in  the  idle  euriosTfy  of  the  girls  an 
opportunity.  They  had  never  seen  the  sin  and  misery  of 
Raymond.  Why  should  they  not  see  it,  even  if  their  motives 
in  going  down  there  were  simply  to  pass  away  an  after- 
noon. 

"Very  well,  I'll  go  with  you.  You  must  obey  my  orders, 
and  let  me  take  you  where  you  can  see  the  most,"  she  said, 
as  she  entered  the  carriage  and  took  the  seat  beside  the 
girl  who  had  first  suggested  the  trip  to  the*  Rectangle. 

"Hadn't  we  better  take  a  policeman  along,"  said  one  oli 
the  girls  with  a  nervous  laugh.  "It  really  isn't  safe  down 
there,  you  know." 

"There's  no  danger,"  said  Virginia  briefly. 

"Is  it  true  that  Rollin  has  been  converted?"  asked 
the  first  speaker  looking  at  Virginia  curiousl3^  It  im- 
pressed her  during  the  drive  to  the  Rectangle  that  all  three 
of  her  friends  we^e  regarding  her  with  close  attention  as  if 
she  were  very  peculiar. 

"Yes,  he  certainly  is.  I  saw  him  myself  on  the  ni^-ht 
of  the  first  interest  shown,  a  week  ago  Saturday,"  replied 
Virginia  who  did  not  know  just  how  to  tell  that  scene. 

"I  understand  he  is  going  around  to  the  clubs  talking 
with  his  old  friends  there,  trying  to  preach  to  them.  Doesn't 
that  seem  funny?"  said  the  girl  with  the  red  silk  parasol. 

Virginia  did  not  answer,  and  the  other  girls  were  begin- 
ning to  feel  sober  as  the  carriage  turned  into  the  street 
leading  to  the  Rectangle.  As  they  neared  the  district, 
they  grew  more  and  more  nervous.  The  sights  and  smells 
.nnd  sounds  which  had  become  familiar  to  Virginia,  struck 
the  senses  of  these  refined,  delicate,  society  girls  as  some- 


116  TN  HIS  STEPS. 

thing  horrible.  As  they  entered  farther  into  the  district, 
the  Rectangle  seemed  to  stare  as  with  one  great,  bleary, 
beer-soalied  countenance  at  this  fine,  carriage  with  its  load 
of  fashionably  dressed  young  ladies.  "Slumming"  had 
never  been  a  fad  with  Raymond  society,  and  this  was  per- 
haps the  first  time  that  the  two  had  come  together  in  this 
way.  The  girls  felt  that,  instead  of  seeing  the  Rectangle, 
they  were  being  the  objects  of  curiosity.  They  were  fright- 
ened and  disgusted. 

Let's  go  bacli.  I've  seen  enough,"  said  the  girl  who  was 
sitting  with  Virginia. 

They  were  at  that  moment  just  opposite  a  notorious 
saloon  and  gambling  house.  The  street  was  narrow  and  the 
sidewalk  crowded.  Suddenly,  out  of  the  door  of  the  saloon 
a  young  woman  reeled.  She  was  singing,  in  a  brolven, 
drunken  sob  that  seemed  to  indicate  that  she  partly  realized 
her  awful  condition,  "Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea;" 
and  as  the  carriage  rolled  past  she  leered  at  it,  raising  her 
face  so  that  Virginia  saw  it  very  close  to  her  own  It 
was  the  face  of  the  girl  who  had  kneeled  sobbing  that 
night,  with  Virginia  kneeling  beside  her  and  praying  for 
her. 

"Stop  I"  cried  Virginia  motioning  to  the  driver,  who  was 
looking  around.  The  carriage  stopped,  and  in  a  moment  she 
was  out  and  had  gone  up  to  the  girl  and  taken  her  by  the 
arm. 

"Loreen,"  she  said,  and  that  was  all.  The  girl  looked 
into  her  face,  and  her  own  changed  into  a  look  of  utter  hor- 
ror. The  girls  in  the  carriage  were  smitten  into  helpless 
astonishment.  The  saloon-keeper  had  come  to  the  door  of 
the  saloon  and  was  standing  there  looking  on,  with  his 
hands  on  his  hips.      And  the  Rectangle  from  its  windows, 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  117 

its  s^aloon  steps,  its  filtliy  sidewalk,  gutter  and  roadway, 
paused,  and  with  undisguised  wonder  stared  at  the  two 
girls.  Over  the  scene  the  warm  sun  of  spring  poured  its 
mellow  light.  A  faint  breath  of  music  from  the  band  stand 
in  the  park  floated  into  the  Rectangle.  The  concert  had 
begun,  and  the  fashion  and  wealth  of  Raymond  were  dis- 
playing themselves  up  town  on  the  boulevards. 


CHAPTER  VL 

"For  I  came  to  set  a  man  at  variance  against  his  father,  and 
the  daughter  against  her  mother,  and  the  daughter-in-law  against 
her  mother-in-law;  and  a  man's  foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own 
household." 

''Be  ye  therefore  imitators  of  God,  as  beloved  children;  and 
walk  in  love  even  as  Christ  also  loved  you." 

When  Virginia  left  the  carriage  and  went  to  Loreen, 
she  had  no  definite  idea  as  to  what  she  would  do  or 
what  the  result  of  her  action  would  be.  She  simply  saw  a 
soul  that  had  tasted  of  the  joy  of  a  better  life  slipping  back 
again  into  its  old  hell  of  shame  and  death.  And  before  she 
had  touched  the  drunken  girl's  arm,  she  had  asked  only 
one  question, "AVhat  would  Jesus  do?"  That  question  was 
becoming  Avilji  her,  as  with  many  others,  a  habit  of  life. 

She  looked  around  now,  as  she  stood  close  by  Loreen, 
and  the  whole  scene  was  cruelly  vivid  to  her.  She  thought 
first  of  the  girls  in  the  carriage. 

"Drive  on;  don't  wait  for  me!  I  am  going  to  see  my 
friend  here  home,*'  she  said,  calmly  enough. 

The  girl  with  the  red  parasol  seemed  to  gasp  at  the 
word  "friend"  when  Virginia  spoke  it.  She  did  not  say 
anything.    The  other  girls  seemed  speechless. 

"Go  on!    I  cannot  go  back  with  you,"  said  Virginia. 

The  driver  started  the  horses  slowly.  One  of  the  girls 
leaned  a  little  out  of  the  carriage. 

"Can't  we— that  is— do  you  want  our  help?  Couldn't 
we—" 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  119 

'No,  no!"  exclaimed  Virginia;  "yon  cannot  be  of  any  nse 
to  nie." 

The  carriage  movecl  on,  and  Virginia  was  alone  with 
her  charge 

She  looked  up  and  around.  Many  faces  in  the  crowd 
were  sympathetic.  They  were  not  all  cruel  or  brutal.  The 
Holy  Spirit  had  softened  a  good  deal  of  the  Rectangle. 

"Where  does  she  live?"  asked  Virginia. 

No  one  answered.  It  occurred  to  Virginia  afterwards, 
when  she  had  time  to  think  it  over,  that  the  Rectangle 
sliowed  a  delicacj-  in  its  sad  silence  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  the  boulevard. 

For  the  first  time  it  flashed  upon  her  that  the  immortal 
being,  who  was  flung  like  wreckage  upon  the  shore  of  this 
earthly  hell  called  the  saloon,  had  no  place  that  could  be 
called  home. 

The  girl  suddenly  wrenched  her  arm  from  Virginia's 
grasp.    In  doing  it  she  nearly  threw  Virginia  down. 

"You  shall  not  touch  me  I  Leave  me!  Let  me  go  to  hell! 
That's  where  I  belong!  The  devil  is  waiting  for  me.  See 
him!"  she  exclaimed  hoarsely.  She  turned  and  pointed 
with  a  shaking  finger  at  the  saloon-keeper.  The  crowd 
laughed. 

Virginia  stepped  up  to  her  and  put  her  arm  about  her. 

"Loreen,"  she  said  firmly,  "come  with  me.  You  do  not 
belong  to  hell.  You  belong  to  Jesus,  and  He  will  save  you. 
Come." 

The  girl  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  She  was  only  partly 
sobered  by  the  shock  of  meeting  Virginia. 

Virginia  looked  around  again.  "Where  does  Mr.  Gray 
live?"  she  asked.  SUe  knew  the  evangelist  boarded  some- 
where near  that  tent. 


120  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

A  number  of  voices  gave  her  the  dh'ection. 

"Come,  Loreen,  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  Mrs. 
Gray's,"  she  said,  still  Iceeping  her  hold  of  the  swaying, 
trembling  creature,  who  still  moaned  and  sobbed,  and  now 
clung  to  Virginia  as  before  she  had  repulsed  her. 

So  the  two  moved  on  through  the  Kectangle  towards  the 
evangelist's  lodging  place.  The  sight  seemed  to  impress 
the  Rectangle  seriously.  It  never  took  itself  seriously  when 
it  was  drunk ;  but  this  Avas  different.  The  fact  that  one  of 
the  most  beautifully-dressed  girls  in  Raymond  was  taking 
care  of  one  of  the  Rectangle's  most  notorious  characters, 
who  reeled  along  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  was  a  fact 
astonishing  enough  to  throw  more  or  less  dignity  and 
importance  about  Loreen  herself.  The  event  of  Loreen 
stumbling  through  the  gutter  dead  drunk  always  made  the 
Rectangle  laugh  and  jest.  But  Loreen  staggering  along 
Avith  a  young  lady  from  the  society  circles  up  town  sup- 
porting her,  was  another  thing.  The  Rectangle  viewed  it 
with  soberness  and  more  or  less  wondering  admiration. 

When  they  reached  Mr.  Gray's  boarding  place,  the  wom- 
an who  answered  Virginia's  knock  said  that  both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Gray  Avere  out  somewhere,  and  would  not  be  back 
until  six  o'clock. 

Virginia  had  not  planned  anything  farther  than  a  possi- 
ble appeal  to  the  Grays,  either  to  take  charge  of  Loreen 
for  awhile,  or  find  some  safe  place  for  her  until  she  was 
sober  again.  She  stood  now  at  the  lodging  after  the  Avom- 
an  had  spoken,  and  she  was  really  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
to  do.  Loreen  sank  down  stupidly  on  the  steps  and  buried 
her  face  in  her  arms.  Virginia  eyed  the  miserable  figure 
with  a  feeling  that  she  was  fearful  would  grow  into  dis- 
gust. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  131 

Finally  a  thought  possessed  Virginia  that  she  could  not 
resist.  What  was  to  hinder  Loreen  from  going  home  with 
her?  Why  should  not  this  homeless,  wretched  creature, 
reeking  with  the  fumes  of  liquor,  be  cared  for  in  Virginia's 
own  home,  instead  of  being  consigned  to  strangers  in  some 
hospital  or  house  of  charity?  Virginia  really  knew  very 
little  about  any  such  places  of  refuge.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  there  were  two  or  three  such  institutions  in  Raymond; 
but  it  is  doubtful  if  any  of  them  would  have  taken  a  per- 
son like  Loreen  in  her  present  condition.  But  that  was  not 
the  question  with  Virginia  just  now.  "What  would  Jesus 
'.\6  with  Loreen?"  was  what  Virginia  faced,  and  she  finally 
answered  it  by  touching  Loreen  again. 

"Loreen,  come.  You  are  going  home  with  me.  We 
will  take  the  car  here  at  the  corner." 

Loreen  staggered  to  her  feet,  and  to  Virginia's 
relief,  made  no  trouble.  She  had  expected  resistance,  or  a 
stubborn  refusal  to  move.  When  they  reached  the  corner 
and  took  the  car,  it  was  nearly  full  of  people  going  up  town. 
Virginia  Avas  painfully  conscious  of  the  stare  that  greeted 
her  and  her  companion  as  they  entered.  But  her  thought 
was  directed  more  and  more  to  the  approaching  scene  with 
her  grandmother.  What  would  Madam  Page  say  when  she 
saw  Loreen? 

Loreen  was  nearly  sober  now.  But  she  was  lapsing  into 
a  state  of  stupor.  Virginia  was  obliged  to  hold  fast  to  her 
arm.  Several  times  she  lurched  heavily  against  Virginia, 
and  as  the  two  wont  up  the  avenue  a  curious  crowd  of  peo- 
ple turned  and  gazed  at  them.  When  she  mounted  the 
steps  of  the  handsome  house,  Virginia  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief,  even  in  the  face  of  the  interview  with  her  grand- 
mother; and  wlien  the  door  shut  and  she  was  in  the  wide 


123  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

hall  with  her  homeless  outcast,  she  felt  equal  to  anything 
thai  might  now  come. 

Madam  Page  was  in  the  library.  Hearing  Virginia 
come  in,  she  came  into  the  hall.  Virginia  stood  there  support- 
ing Loreen,  who  stared  stupidly  at  the  rich  magnificence 
of  the  furnishings  around  her. 

''Grandmother—"  Virginia  spoke  without  hesitation  and 
very  clearly— "I  have  brought  one  of  my  friends  from  the 
Rectangle.  She  is  in  trouble  and  has  no  home.  I  am  going 
to  care  for  her  a  little  while." 

Madam  Page  glanced  from  her  granddaughter  to  Loreen 
in  astonishment. 

"Did  you  say  she  was  one  of  your  friends?"  She  asked 
in  a  cold,  sneering  voice  that  hurt  Virginia  more  than  any- 
thing she  had  yet  felt. 

"Yes,  I  said  so."  Virginia's  face  flushed  but  she  seemed 
to  recall  the  verse  that  Mr.  Gray  had  used  for  one  of  his 
recent  sermons,  "A  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners."  Surely 
Jesus  would  do  this  that  she  was  doing. 

"Do  you  know  what  this  girl  is?"  asl^ed  Madam  Page  in 
an  angry  whisper,  stepping  near  Virginia. 

"I  know  very  well.  She  is  an  outcast.  You  need  not 
tell  me,  Grandmother.  I  know  it  even  better  than  you  do. 
She  is  drunk  at  this  minute.  But  she  is  also  a  child  of  God. 
1  have  seen  her  on  her  knees  repentant.  And  I  have  seen 
Hell  reach  out  its  horrible  fingers  after  her  again,  xind  by 
the  grace  of  Christ,  I  feel  that  the  least  I  can  do  is  to  rescue 
her  from  such  peril.  Grandmother,  we  call  ourselves  Chris- 
tians. Here  is  a  poor,  lost  human  creature,  without  a 
home  slipping  into  a  possible  eternal  loss,  and  we  have 
more  than  enough.  I  have  brought  her  here  and  shall 
keep  her." 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  123 

Madam  Page  glared  at  Virginia  and  clenched  her  hands. 
All  this  was  contrary  to  her  social  code  of  conduct.  How 
could  society  excuse  such  familiarity  witli  tlie  scum  of  the 
streets?  AVhat  would  Virginia's  actions  cost  the  family,  in 
the  way  of  criticism  and  the  loss  of  standing,  and  all  that 
long  list  of  necessary  relations  which  people  of  wealth  and 
position  must  sustain  to  the  leaders  of  society?  To  Madam 
Page,  society  represented  more  than  the  church  or  any 
other  institution.  It  was  a  power  to  be  feared  and  obeyed. 
The  loss  of  its  good  will  was  a  loss  more  to  be  dreaded 
than  anything,  except  the  loss  of  wealth  itself. 

She  stood  erect  and  stern,  and  confronted  Virginia,  fully 
roused  and  determined.  Virginia  placed  her  arm  about 
Loreen  and  calmly  looked  her  grandmother  in  the  face. 

"You  shall  not  do  this,  Virginia.  You  can  send  her  to 
the  asylum  for  helpless  women.  We  can  pay  all  the 
expenses.  We  cannot  afford,  for  the  sake  of  our  reputa- 
tions, to  shelter  such  a  person." 

"Grandmother,  I  do  not  wish  to  do  anything  that  is  dis- 
pleasing to  you;  but  I  am  going  to  keep  Loreen  here 
to-night,  and  longer  if  I  think  it  is  best." 

"Then  you  can  answer  for  the  consequences!  I  do  not 
stay  in  the  same  house  with  a  miserable—"  Madam  Page 
lost  her  self-control.  Virginia  stopped  her  before  she  could 
speak  the  next  word. 

"Grandmother,  this  house  is  mine.  It  is  your  home  with 
me  as  long  as  you  choose  to  remain.  But  in  this  matter  I 
shall  act  as  I  fully  believe  Jesus  would  in  my  place.  I  am 
willing  to  bear  all  that  society  may  say  or  do.  Society  is 
not  my  God.  By  the  side  of  this  poor,  lost  soul,  I  do  not 
count  the  verdict  of  society  as  of  any  value." 

"I  shall  not  remain  here,  then,"  said  Madam  Page.    She 


124  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

turned  suddenly  and  walked  to  the  end  of  the  hall.  She 
then  came  back,  and  said,  with  an  emphasis  that  revealerl 
her  intense  excitement  and  passion, 

"You  can  always  remember  that  you  have  driven  your 
grandmother  out  of  yoiu*  house  in  favor  of  a  drunken 
woman."  Then,  without  waiting  for  Virginia  to  reply,  she 
turned  again  and  went  up  stairs. 

Virginia  called  for  a  servant,  and  soon  had  Loreen  cared 
for.  She  was  fast  lapsing  into  a  wretched  condition.  Dur- 
ing the  brief  scene  in  the  hall,  she  had  clung  to  Virginia  so 
hard  that  Virginia's  arm  was  sore  from  the  clutch  of  tho 
girl's  £ngers. 

Virginia  did  not  know  whether  her  grandmother  would 
leave  the  house  or  not.  She  had  abundant  means  of  her 
own;  was  perfectly  well  and  vigorous,  and  capable  of  car- 
ing for  herself.  She  had  sisters  and  brothers  living  in  the 
South,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  spending  several  weeks  in 
the  year  with  them.  Virginia  was  not  anxious  about  her 
welfare,  so  far  as  that  went;  but  the  interview  had  been 
a  painful  one  to  her.  Going  over  it,  as  she  did  in  her  room 
before  she  went  down  to  tea,  she  found  little  cause  for 
regret,  however.  "What  would  Jesus  do?"  There  was  no 
question  in  Virginia's  mind  that  she  had  done  the  right 
thing.  If  she  had  made  a  mistake,  it  was  one  of  the  judg- 
ment and  not  of  the  heart.  When  the  bell  rang  for  tea, 
she  went  down,  and  her  grandmother  did  not  appear.She 
sent  a  servant  to  her  room,  and  the  servant  brought  back 
word  that  Madam  Page  was  not  there.  A  few  minutes 
later  Rollin  came  in.  He  brought  word  that  his  grand- 
mother had  taken  the  evening  train  for  the  South.  He  had 
been  at  the  station  to  see  some  friends  off,  and  had    by 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  125 

chance  met  his  grandmother  as  he  was  coming  out.    She 
told  him  her  reason  for  going. 

Virginia  and  Rollin  confronted  each  other  at  the  table 
with  earnest,  sad  faces. 

"Rollin,"  said  Virginia,  and,  for  the  first  time  almost 
since  his  conversion,  she  realized  what  a  wonderful  thing 
her  brother's  change  of  life  meant  to  her.  "Do  you  blame 
me?    Am  I  wrong?" 

"No,  dear,  I  cannot  believe  you  are.  This  is  very  pain- 
ful for  us.  But  if  you  think  this  poor  creature  owes  her 
safety  and  salvation  to  your  personal  care,  it  was  the  only 
thing  for  you  to  do.  O  Virginia  I  to  think  that  we  have  all 
these  years  enjoyed  our  beautiful  home  and  all  these  luxu- 
ries selfishly,  forgetful  of  the  multitude  like  this  woman! 
Surely  Jesus  in  our  places  would  do  what  you  have  done." 

And  so  Rollin  comforted  Virginia  and  counselled  with 
her  that  evening.  And  of  all  the  wonderful  changes  that 
Virginia  was  henceforth  to  know  on  account  of  her  great 
pledge,  nothing  affected  her  so  powerfully  as  the  thought  of 
Rollin' s  change  in  life.  Truly,  this  man  in  Christ  was  a 
new  creature.  Old  things  were  passed  away.  Behold,  all 
things  in  him  had  become  new. 

Dr.  West  came  that  evening  at  Virginia's  summons, 
and  did  everything  necessary  for  the  outcast.  She  had 
drunk  herself  almost  into  delirium.  The  best  that  could  be 
done  for  her  now  Avas  quiet  nursing,  and  careful  watching, 
and  personal  love.  So  in  a  beautiful  room,  with  a  picture 
of  Christ  walking  by  the  sea  hanging  on  the  wall,  where 
her  be%A  ildered  eyes  caught  daily  something  more  of  its  hid- 
den meaning,  Loreen  lay,  tossed  she  hardly  knew  how 
Into  this  haven;  and  Virginia  crept  nearer  the  Master  than 
she  had  ever  been,  as  her  heart  went  out  towards  this 


126  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

wreck  which  had  thus  been  flung  torn  and  beaten  at  her 
feet. 

Meanwhile  the  Rectangle  waited  the  issue  of  the  elec- 
tion with  more  than  usual  interest.  And  Gray  and  his  wife 
wept  over  the  pitiable  creatures  who,  after  a  struggle  with 
surroundings  that  daily  tempted  them,  too  often  wearied 
of  the  struggle  and,  lilce  Loreen,  threw  up  their  arms  and 
went  whirling  into  the  boiling  abyss  of  their  previous  con- 
dition. 

The  after-meeting  at  the  First  Church  was  now  regularly 
established.  Henry  Maxwell  went  into  the  lecture-room 
on  the  Sunday  succeeding  the  weeli  of  the  primary,  and  wan 
greeted  with  an  enthusiasm  that  made  him  tremble,  at 
first,  for  its  reality.  He  noted  again  the  absence  of  Jas- 
per Chase,  but  all  the  others  were  present  and  they  seemed 
drawn  very  close  together  by  a  bond  of  common  fellowship 
that  demanded  and  enjoyed  mutual  confidences.  It  was 
the  general  feeling  that  the  spirit  of  Jesus  was  a  spirit  of 
very  open,  frank  confession  of  experience.  It  seemed  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  Edward  Norman  to  be 
telling  all  the  rest  of  the  company  about  the  details  of  his 
newspaper. 

"The  fact  is,  I  have  lost  a  good  deal  of  money  during 
the  last  three  weeks.  I  cannot  tell  how  much.  I  am  losing 
a  great  many  subscribers  every  day." 

"What  do  the  subscribers  give  as  their  reason  for  drop- 
ping the  paper?"  asked  Henry  Maxwell.  All  the  rest  were 
listening  eagerly. 

"There  are  a  good  many  different  reasons.  Some  say 
they  want  a  paper  that  prints  all  the  news;  meaning  by 
that,  the  crime  details,  sensations  like  prize  fights,  scandals, 
and  horrors  of  various  kinds.    Others  object  to  the  discon- 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  127 

tinuance  of  the  Sunday  editiou.  1  have  lost  hundreds  of 
subscribers  by  that  action,  although  I  have  made  satis- 
factory arrangements  with  many  of  the  old  subscribers  by 
giving  them  even  more  in  the  extra  Saturday  edition  than 
they  formerly  had  in  the  Sunday  issue.  My  greatest  loss 
has  come  from  a  falling  off  iy  advertisements,  and  from  the 
attitude  I  have  felt  obliged  to  talie  on  political  questions. 
This  last  action  has  really  cost  me  more  than  any  other. 
The  bulk  of  my  subscribers  are  intensely  partisan.  I  may 
as  well  tell  you  all  frankly  that,  if  I  continue  to  pursue  the 
plan  ^^hich  I  honestly  believe  Jesus  would  in  the  matter  of 
political  issues  and  their  treatment  from  a  non-partisan  and 
moral  standpoint,  the  'News'  will  not  be  able  to  pay  its 
operating  expenses."  unless  one  factor  in  Raymond  can  be 
depended  on." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  the  room  was  very  quiet. 
Virginia  seemed  specially  interested.  Her  face  glowed  with 
interest.  It  was  like  the  interest  of  a  person  Avho  had  been 
thinking  hard  of  the  same  thing  Norman  went  on  now  to 
mention. 

"That  one  factor  is  the  Christian  element  in  Raymond. 
Say  the  'News'  has  lost  heavily  from  the  dropping  off  of 
people  who  do  not  care  for  a  Christian  daily,  and  from 
others  who  simply  look  upon  a  newspaper  as  a  purveyor  of 
all  sorts  of  material  to  amuse  and  interest  them— are  there 
enougli  genuine  Christian  people  in  Raymond  who  will 
rally  to  the  support  of  a  paper  such  as  Jesus  would  proba- 
bly edit,  or  are  the  habits  of  the  people  so  firmly  estab- 
lished in  their  demands  for  the  regular  type  of  journalism 
tliat  they  will  not  take  a  paper  unless  it  is  stripped  largely 
of  the  Christian  and  moral  purpose?  I  may  also  say,  in  this 
fellowsliip  gathering,  that  owing  to  recent  complications  In 


128  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

my  business  affairs  outside  of  my  paper,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  lose  a  large  part  of  my  fortune.  I  have  had  to 
apply  the  same  rule  of  Jesus'  probable  conduct  to  certain 
transactions  with  other  men  who  did  not  apply  it  to  their 
conduct,  and  the  result  has  been  the  loss  of  a  great  deal  of 
money.  As  I  understand  the  promise  we  made,  we  w^ero 
not  to  ask  any  questions  about,  "Will  it  pay?"  but  all  our 
action  was  to  be  based  on  the  one  question, 'What  would 
Jesus  do?'  Acting  on  that  rule  of  conduct,  I  have  been 
obliged  to  lose  nearly  all  the  money  I  have  accumulated  in 
my  paper.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  go  into  details.  There 
is  no  question  with  me  now, after  the  three  weeks' experience 
I  have  had,  that  a  great  many  men  would  lose  vast  sums 
of  money  under  the  present  system  of  business,  if  this  rule 
of  Jesus  were  honestly  obeyed.  I  mention  my  loss  here 
because  I  have  the  fullest  faith  in  the  final  success  of  a 
daily  paper  conducted  on  the  lines  I  have  recently  laid 
down,  and  1  had  planned  to  put  into  it  my  entire  fortune 
in  order  to  win  final  success.  As  it  is  now,  unless,  as  I 
said,  the  Christian  people  of  Raymond,  the  church  member? 
and  professing  disciples,  will  support  the  paper  with  sub 
scriptions  and  advertisements,  I  cannot  continue  its  publi- 
cation on  the  present  basis." 

Virginia  asked  a  question.  She^had  followed  Mr.  Nor- 
man's confession  with  the  most  intense  eagerness. 

"Do  you  mean  that  a  Christian  daily  ought  to  be 
endowed  with  a  large  sum  like  a  Christian  college  in  order 
to  make  it  pay?" 

"That  is  exactly  what  I  mean.  I  have  laid  out  plans 
for  putting  into  the  'News'  such  a  variety  of  material,  in 
such  a  strong  and  truly  interesting  way,  that  it  would  more 
than  make  up  for  whatever  was  absent  from  its  columns 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  129 

in  the  way  of  un-Christian  matter.  But  mj'  plaus  called 
for  a  very  large  outlay  of  money.  I  am  very  eonfiJent  that 
a  Christian  daily  such  as  Jesus  would  approve,  containing 
only  what  He  would  print,  can  be  made  to  succeed  finan- 
cially if  it  is  planned  on  the  right  lines.  But  it  will  take  a 
large  sum  of  money  to  worlv  out  the  plans." 

"How  much  do  you  think?"  asked  Virginia  quietly. 

Edward  Norman  looked  at  her  keenly,  and  his  face 
flushed  a  moment,  as  an  idea  of  Virginia's  purpose  crossed 
his  mind.  He  had  known  her  when  she  was  a  little  girl 
in  the  Sunday-school,  and  he  had  been  on  intimate  relations 
in  business  with  her  father. 

"I  should  say  a  half  million  dollars,  in  a  town  like  Ray- 
mond, could  be  well  spent  in  the  establishment  of  a  paper 
such  as  we  have  in  mind,"  he  answered.  And  his  voice 
trembled  a  little.  The  keen  look  on  Edward  Norman's 
grizzled  face  flashed  out  with  a  stern  but  thoroughly  Chris- 
tian anticipation  of  great  achievements  in  the  world  of 
newspaper  life,  as  it  had  opened  up  to  him  within  the  last 
few  seconds. 

"Then,"  said  Virginia,  speaking  as  if  the  thought  were 
fully  considered,  "I  am  ready  tp  put  that  amount  of  money 
into  the  paper  on  the  one  condition,  of  course,  that  it  be 
carried  on  as  it  has  been  begun." 

"Thank  God!"  exclaimed  Henry  Maxwell  softly.  Ed- 
ward Norman  was  pale.  The  rest  were  looking  at  Virginia. 
{She  had  more  to  say. 

"Dear  friends,"  she  went  on— and  there  was  a  sadness 
in  her  voice  that  made  an  impression  on  the  rest  that  deep- 
ened when  they  thought  it  over  afterwards— "I  do  not  want 
any  of  you  to  credit  me  with  an  act  of  great  generosity  or 


180  IN  HIS  STEPS 

philanthropy.  I  have  come  to  know  lately  that  the  money 
which  I  have  called  my  own  is  not  my  own,  but  God's.  If 
1,  as  a  steward  of  His,  see  some  wise  way  to  invest  His 
money,  it  is  not  an  occasion  of  vain  glory  or  thanks  from 
any  one  simply  because  I  have  proved  honest  in  my  admin- 
istration of  the  funds  He  has  asked  me  to  use  for  His  glory. 
1  have  been  thinking  of  this  very  plan  for  some  time.  The 
fact  is,  dear  friends,  that  in  our  coming  fight  with  the 
whisky  power  in  Raymond— and  it  has  only  just  begun— 
we  shall  need  the  'News'  to  champion  the  Christian  side. 
You  all  know  that  all  the  other  papers  are  for  the  saloon. 
As  long  as  the  saloon  exists,  the  work  of  rescuing  dying 
souls  at  the  Rectangle  is  carried  on  at  a  terrible  disadvan 
tage.  What  can  Mr.  Gray  do  with  his  gospel  meetings  when 
half  his  converts  are  drinking  people,  daily  tempted  and 
enticed  by  the  saloon  on  every  corner?  The  Christian 
daily  we  must  have.  It  would  be  giving  up  to  the  enemy 
to  have  the  'News'  fail.  I  have  great  confidence  in  Mr. 
Norman's  ability.  I  have  not  seen  his  plans;  but  I  have 
the  confidence  that  he  has  in  making  the  paper  succeed  if 
it  is  carried  forward  on  a  large  enough  scale.  I  cannot 
believe  that  Christian  intelligence  in  journalism  will  be 
inferior  to  un-Chrlstian  intelligence,  even  when  it  comes  to 
making  the  paper  pay  financially.  So  that  is  my  reason 
for  putting  this  money— God's,  not  mine— into  this  powerful 
agent  for  doing  as  Jesus  would.  If  we  can  keep  such  a 
paper  going  for  one  year,  I  shall  be  willing  to  see  that 
amount  of  money  used  in  the  experiment.  Do  not  thank 
me.  Do  not  consider  my  promise  a  wonderful  thing.  What 
have  I  done  with  God's  money  all  these  years  but  gratify 
my  own  selfish,  physical,  personal  desires?  What  can  I  do 
with  the  rest  of  it  but  try  to  make  some  reparation  for  what 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  131 

I  have  stolen  from  Cod?  That  is  the  way  I  look  at  it  now. 
I  believe  it  is  what  Jesus  would  do." 

Over  the  lecture-room  swept  that  unseen  yet  distinctly 
felt  wave  of  divine  presence.  No  one  spoke  for  a  while. 
Henrj"  Maxwell  standing  there,  where  the  faces  lifted  their 
intense  gaze  into  his,  felt  what  he  had  already  felt  before— 
a  strange  setting  back  out  of  the  nineteenth  century  into 
the  first,  when  the  disciples  had  all  things  in  common,  and 
a  spirit  of  fellowship  must  have  flowed  freely  between 
them  such  as  the  First  Church  of  Raymond  had  never 
known.  How  much  had  his  church  membership  known  of 
this  fellowship  in  daily  interests,  before  this  little  company 
had  begun  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do?  It  was  with  diflBculty 
that  he  thought  of  his  present  age  and  its  surroundings. 
The  same  thought  was  present  with  all  the  rest  also.  There 
was  an  unspoken  comradeship  such  as  they  had  never 
known.  It  was  present  with  them  while  Virginia  was 
speaking,  and  during  the  silence  that  followed.  If  it  had 
been  defined  by  any  one  of  them,  it  would,  perhaps,  have 
taken  some  such  shape  as  this:  "If  I  shall,  in  the  course  of 
my  obedience  to  my  promise,  meet  with  loss  or  trouble  in  the 
world,  I  can  depend  upon  the  genuine,  practical  sympathy 
and  fellowship  of  any  other  Christian  in  this, room  who  has 
with  me  made  the  pledge  to  do  all  things  by  the  rule,  'What 
would  Jesus  do?'  " 

All  this  the  distinct  wave  of  spiritual  power  expressed. 
It  had  the  effect  that  a  physical  miracle  may  have  had  ou 
the  early  disciples  in  giving  them  a  feeling  of  confidence  in 
their  Lord  that  helped  them  to  face  loss  and  martyrdom 
with  courage  and  even  joy. 

Before  they  went  aAvay  this  time,  there  were  several 
confidences  like  those  of  Edward  Norman.     Some  of  the 


133  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

young  men  told  of  the  loss  of  places  owing  to  their  honest 
obedience  to  their  promise.  Alexander  Powers  spoke 
briefly  of  the  fact  that  the  Commission  had  promised  to 
take  action  at  the  earliest  date  possible.  He  was  already 
at  his  old  work  of  telegraphy.  It  was  a  significant  fact, 
that  since  his  action  in  resigning  his  position,  neither  his 
wife  nor  daughter  had  appeared  in  public.  No  one  but  him^ 
self  knew  the  bitterness  of  that  family  estrangement  and 
misunderstanding  of  the  higher  motive.  Yet  many  of  the 
disciples  present  in  the  meeting  carried  similar  burdens. 
These  were  things  which  they  could  not  talk  about.  Henry 
Maxwell,  from  his  knowledge  of  his  church  people,  could 
almost  certainly  know  that  obedience  to  this  pledge  had 
produced  in  the  heart  of  families  separation  of  sympathy 
and  even  the  introduction  of  enmity  and  hatred.  Truly  "a 
man's  foes  are  they  of  his  own  household,"  when  the  rule 
of  Jesus  is  obeyed  by  some  and  disobeyed  by  others.  Jesus 
is  a  great  divider  of  life.  One  must  walk  either  parallel 
with  Him  or  directly  across  His  path. 

But  more  than  any  other  feeling  at  this  meeting,  rose 
the  tide  of  fellowship  for  one  another.  Henry  Maxwell 
watched  it,  trembling  for  its  climax,  which  he  knew  was 
not  yet  reache(J.  When  it  was,  where  would  it  lead  them? 
He  did  not  l^now,  but  he  was  not  unduly  alarmed  about  it. 
Only,  he  watched  with  growing  wonder  the  results  of  that 
simple  promise  as  it  was  being  obej-ed  in  these  various 
lives.  Those  results  were  already  being  felt  all  over  the 
city.  Who  could  measure  their  influence  at  the  end  of  the 
year? 

One  practical  form  of  this  fellowship  showed  itself  in 
the  assurances  which  Edward  Norman  received  in  support 
of  his  paper.      There  was  a  general  flocking  towards  him 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?'  188 

when  the  meeting  closed,  and  the  response  to  his  appeal 
for  help  from  the  Christian  disciples  in  Raymond  was  fully 
understood  by  this  little  company.  The  value  of  such  a 
paper  in  the  homes  and  in  behalf  of  good  citizenship,  espe- 
cially at  the  present  crisis  in  the  city,  could  not  be  meas- 
ured. It  remained  to  be  seen  what  could  be  done  now  that 
the  paper  was  endowed  so  liberally.  But  it  still  was  true, 
as  Edward  Norman  insisted,  that  money  alone  could  not 
malie  the  paper  a  power.  It  must  receive  the  support  and 
sympathy  of  the  Christians  in  Raymond,  before  it  could  be 
counted  as  one  of  the  great  Christian  forces  of  the  city. 

The  weelv  that  followed  this  Sunday  meeting  was  one 
of  great  excitement  in  Raymond.  It  was  the  weeli  of  the 
election.  Donald  Marsh,  true  to  his  promise,  toolc  up  his 
cross  and  bore  it  manfully,  but  with  shuddering,  witli 
groans  and  even  tears,  for  his  deepest  conviction  was 
touched,  and  he  tore  himself  out  of  the  scholarly  seclusion 
of  years  with  a  pain  and  anguish  that  cost  him  more  than 
anything  he  had  ever  done  as  a  follower  of  Christ.  With 
him  were  a  fe\7  of  the  college  professors  who  had  made 
the  pledge  in  the  First  Church.  Their  experience  and  suf- 
fering were  the  same  as  the  President's;  for  their  isolation 
from  all  the  duties  of  citizenship  had  been  the  same.  The 
same  was  also  true  of  Henry  Maxwell,  who  plunge^l  into 
the  horror  of  this  fight  against  whisky  and  its  allies,  with 
a  sickening  dread  of  each  day's  encounter  with  it.  For 
never  had  he  borne  such  a  cross.  He  staggered  under  it, 
and  in  the  brief  intervals  when  he  came  in  from  the  work 
and  sought  the  quiet  of  his  study  for  rest,  the  sweat  broke 
out  on  his  forehead,  and  he  felt  the  actual  terror  of  one 
who  marches  into  unseen,  unknown  horrors.  Looking  back 
on  it,  afterwards,  he  was  amazed  at  his  experience.    He 


134  IN  HIS  STEPS.  ' 

was  not  a  coward;  but  be  felt  a  dread  tbat  any  man  of 
his  babits  feels,  wben  confronted  suddenly  witb  a  duty 
wbicb  carries  witb  it  tbe  doing  of  certain  tbings  so  unfa- 
miliar tbat  tbe  actual  details  connected  witb  it  betray  bis 
ignorance  and  fill  bim  witb  tbe  shame  of  humiliation. 

Wben  Saturday,  tbe  election  day,  came,  the  excitement 
rose  to  its  height.  An  attempt  was  made  to  close  all  the 
saloons.  It  was  partly  successful.  But  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  drinking  going  on  all  day.  Tbe  Rectangle  boiled 
and  heaved  and  cursed  and  turned  its  worst  side  out  to  the 
gaze  of  tbe  cit3^  Gray  had  continued  bis  meetings  during 
tbe  week  and  tbe  results  had  been  even  greater  than  he 
bad  dared  to  hope.  Wben  Saturday  came,  it  seemed  to  bim 
tbat  tbe  crisis  in  his  work  bad  been  reached.  The  Holy 
Spirit  and  tbe  Satan  of  rum  seemed  to  rouse  up  to  a  des- 
perate conflict.  The  more  interest  in  tbe  meetings,  tbe 
more  ferocity  and  vileness  outside.  Tbe  saloon  men  no 
longer  concealed  their  feelings.  Open  threats  of  violence 
were  made.  Once  during  the  week  Gray  and  his  little 
company  of  helpers  were  assailed  with  missiles  of  various 
kinds,  as  they  left  the  tent  late  at  night.  The  police  sent 
down  special  protection,  and  Virginia  and  Rachel  were 
always  under  tbe  protection  of  Rollin  or  Dr.  West.  Rachel's 
power  in  song  bad  not  diminished. '  Rather,  with  each  night 
it  seemed  to  add  to  the  intensity  and  reality  of  the  Spirit's 
presence. 

Gray  had,  at  first,  hesitated  about  having  a  meeting 
tbat  night.  But  be  bad  a  simple  rule  of  action,  and  was 
always  guided  by  it.  Tbe  Spirit  seemed  to  lead  them  to 
continue  tbe  meeting,  and  so  Saturday  night  be  went  on  as 
usual. 

The  excitement  all  over  tbe  city  had  reached  its  climax 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  135 

When  the  polls  closed  at  six  o'clock.  Never  had  there  been 
such  a  contest  hi  Raj-mond.  The  issue  of  license  or  no 
license  had  never  been  an  issue  under  such  circumstances. 
Never  before  had  such  elements  in  the  city  been  arrayed 
against  each  otlier.  It  was  an  unlieard-of  thing  that  the 
president  of  Lincoln  College,  the  pastor  of  the  First 
Church,  the  dean  of  the  Cathedral,  the  professional  men 
living  in  the  fine  houses  on  the  boulevard,  should  come 
personally  into  the  ^vards  and,  l)y  their  presence  and  their 
example,  represent  the  Christian  conscience  of  the  place. 
The  M-ard  politicians  were  astonished  at  the  sight.  How- 
ever, their  astonishment  did  not  prevent  their  activity.  The 
fight  grew  hotter  every  hour;  and  when  six  o'clocli:  came 
neither  side  could  have  guessed  at  the  result  with  any  cer- 
tainty. Every  one  agreed  that  never  had  there  been  such 
an  election  in  liaymond,  and  both  sides  awaited  the 
announcement  of  the  result  with  the  greatest  interest. 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock  when  the  meeting  at  the  tent 
was  closed.  It  had  been  a  strange  and,  in  some  respects, 
a  remarkable  meeting.  Henry  Maxwell  had  come  down 
again,  at  Gray's  request.  He  was  completely  worn  out 
by  the  day's  work,  but  the  appeal  from  Gray  came  to  him 
in  such  a  form  that  he  did  not  feel  able  to  resist  it.  Donald 
Marsh  was  also  present.'  He  had  never  been  to  the  Rec- 
tangle, and  his  curiosity  was  aroused  from  what  he  had 
noticed  of  the  influence  of  the  evangelist  in  the  worst  part 
of  the  city.  Dr.  West  and  Rollin  had  come  with  Rachel 
and  Virginia;  and  Loreen,  who  had  stayed  with  Virginia, 
was  present  near  the  organ,  in  her  right  mind,  sober,  with 
a  humility  and  dread  of  herself  that  kept  her  as  close  to 
Virginia  as  a  faithful  dog.  All  through  the  service  Loreen 
sat  with  bowed  head,  weeping  a  part  of  the  time,  sobbing 


136  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

when  Rachel  sang  the  song,  "I  was  a  vrandering  sheep," 
clinging  with  almost  visible,  tangible  yearning  to  the  one 
hope  she  had  found,  listening  to  prayer  and  appeal  and 
confession  all  about  her  like  one  who  was  a  part  of  a  new 
creation,  yet  fearful  of  her  right  to  share  in  it  fully. 

The  tent  had  been  crowded.  As  on  some  other  occa- 
sions there  was  more  or  less  disturbance  on  the  outside  of 
the  tent.  This  had  increased  as  the  night  advanced,  and 
Gray  thought  it  wise  not  to  prolong  the  service.  Once  in  a 
while  a  shout  as  from  a  large  crowd  swept  into  the  tent. 
The  returns  from  the  election  were  beginning  to  come  in, 
and  the  Rectangle  had  emptied  every  lodging  house,  den 
and  hovel  into  the  streets. 

In  spite  of  the  distractions,  Rachel's  singing  l^ept  the 
crowd  in  the  tent  from  dissolving.  There  were  a  dozen  or 
more  conversions.  Finally  the  crowd  became  restless,  and 
Gray  closed  the  service,  remaining  a  little  while  with  the 
converts. 

Rachel,  Virginia,  Loreen,  RoUin  and  the  Doctor,  Presi- 
dent Marsh  and  Henry  Maxwell,  went  out  together,  intend- 
ing to  go  down  to  their  usual  waiting  place  for  their 
car.  As  they  came  out  of  the  tent  they  at  once  were 
aware  that  the  Rectangle  was  trembling  on  the  edge  of 
a  drunlien  riot,  and,  as  they  puslied  through  the  gather- 
ing mobs  in  the  narrow  streets,  they  began  to  realize  that 
they  themselves  were  objects  of  great  attention. 

"There  he  is,  the  blolj;e  in  the  tall  hat.  He's  the  leader!" 
shouted  a  rough  voice.  President  Marsh,  with  his  erect, 
commanding  figui"^,  was  conspicuous  in  the  little  company. 

"How  has  the  election  gone?  It  is  too  early  to  know 
the  result  yet,  isn't  it?"  He  asked  the  question  aloud,  and  a 
man  answered,  "They  say  second  and  third  wards  have 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  137 

gone  almost  solid  for  no  license.  If  that  is  so,  the  whisky 
men  have  been  beaten." 

"Thank  God:  I  hope  it  is  true,"  exclaimed  Henry  Max- 
well. "Marsh,  we  are  in  danger  here.  Do  you  realize  our 
situation?    We  ought  to  get  the  ladies  to  a  place  of  safety." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Marsh  gravely.  At  that  moment  a 
shoAver  of  stones  and  other  missiles  fell  over  them.  The 
narrow  street  and  sidewalk  in  front  of  them  were  com- 
pletely choked  with  the  worst  elements  of  the  Rectangle. 

"This  looks  serious,"  said  Maxwell.  With  Marsh  and 
Rollin  and  Dr.  West  he  started  to  go  forward  through  the 
small  opening,  Virginia,  Rachel  and  Loreen  following  close 
and  sheltered  by  the  men,  who  now  realized  something  of 
their  danger.  The  Rectangle  was  drunk  and  enraged.  It 
saw  in  Daniel  Marsh  and  Henry  Maxwell  two  of  the  lead- 
ers in  the  election  contest  who  had  perhaps  robbed  them  of 
their  beloved  saloon. 

"Down  with  the  aristocrats!"  shouted  a  shrill  voice 
more  like  a  woman's  than  a  man's. 

A  shower  of  mud  and  stones  folloAved.  Rachel  remem- 
bered afterwards  that  Rollin  jumped  directly  in  front  of 
her  and  received  on  his  head  and  chest  a  number  of  blows 
that  would  probably  have  struck  her  if  he  had  not  shielded 
her  from  them. 

And  just  then,  before  the  police  reached  them,  Loreen 
darted  forward  at  the  side  of  Virginia  and  pushed  her  aside, 
lookmg  up  and  screaming.  It  was  so  sudden  that  no  one 
had  time  to  catch  the  face  of  the  one  who  did  it.  But  out 
of  the  upper  window  of  a  room  over  the  very  saloon  whore 
Loreen  had  come  out  a  week  before,  some  one  had  thrown 
a  heavy  bottle.  It  struck  Loreen  on  the  head  and  slie  fell 
to  the  ground.    Virginia  turned  and  instantly  kneeled  down 


138  IN   HIS  STEPS. 

by  her.    The  police  officers  by  that  time  had  reached  the 
little  company. 

Donald  Marsh  raised  his  arm  and  shouted  over  the  howl 
that  was  beginning  to  rise  from  the  wild  beast  in  the 
mob, 

"Stop!    You've  Ivilled  a  woman!" 

The  announcement  partly  sobered  the  crowd. 

"Is  it  true?"    Henry   Maxwell  asked   it,   as  Dr.   West 
kneeled  on  the  other  side  of  Loreen,  supporting  her. 
"She's  dying!"  said  Dr.  West  briefly. 

Loreen  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled  at  Virginia.  Vir- 
ginia wiped  the  blood  from  her  face,  and  then  b6nt  over 
and  kissed  her.  Loreen  smiled  again,  and  the  next  moment 
her  soul  was  in  .Paradise. 

And  yet, this  is  only  one  woman  out  of  thousands  killed 
by  this  drink  devil.  Crowd  back,  now,  ye  sinful  men  and 
women  in  this  filthy  street!  Let  this  august,  dead  form  be 
borne  through  your  stupified,  sobered  ranks.  She  was  one 
of  your  own  children.  The  liectaugle  had  stamped  the 
image  of  the  beast  on  her.  Thank  Him  who  died  for  sin- 
uei's,  that  the  other  image  of  a  neAv  soul  noAv  shines  out  of 
her  pale  clay!  Crowd  back!  Give  them  room!  Let  her 
pass  reverently,  followed  and  surrounded  by  the  weeping, 
awestruck  company  of  Christians.  Ye  killed  her,  ye  drunken 
murderers!  And  yet,  and  yet,  O  Christian  America!  who 
killed  this  woman V  Stand  back!  Silence  there!  A  woman 
has  been  killed.  Who?  Loreen.  Child  of  the  streets. 
Poor,  drunken,  vile  sinner!  O  Lord  God,  how  long?  Y^'es. 
The  saloon  killed  her.  That  is,  the  voters  in  Christian 
America  who  license  the  saloon.  And  the  Judgment  Day 
only  shall  declare  who  was  the  murderer  of  Loreen. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

"He  that  followeth  me  shall  not  walk  in  darkness." 

The  body  of  Loreen  lay  in  state  at  the  Page  mansion 
on  the  avenue.  It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  the  clear 
sweet  air,  just  beginning  to  breathe  over  the  city  the  per- 
fume of  opening  blos^soms  in  the  woods  and  fields,  svv^ept 
over  the  casket  from  one  of  the  open  windows  at  the  end 
of  the  grand  hall.  The  church  bells  were  ringing  and  the 
people  on  the  avenue  going  by  to  service  turned  curious 
inquiring  looks  up  at  the  great  house  and  went  on,  talking 
of  the  recent  events  which  had  so  strangely  entered  into 
and  made  history  in  the  city. 

At  the  First  Church,  Henry  Maxwell,  bearing  on  his 
face  marks  of  the  scene  he  had  been  through  the  night 
before,  confronted  an  immense  congregation,  and  spoke  to 
it  with  a  passion  and  a  power  that  came  so  naturally  out 
of  the  profound  experiences  of  the  day  before  that  his  peo- 
ple felt  for  him  something  of  the  old  feeling  of  pride  they 
once  had  in  his  dramatic  delivery.  Only,  this  was  a  differ- 
ent attitude.  And  all  through  his  impassioned  appeal  this 
morning  there  was  a  note  of  sadness  and  rebuke  and  stern 
condemnation  that  made  many  of  the  members  pale  with 
self-accusation  or  with  inward  anger. 

For  Raymond  had  awakened  that  morning  to  the  fact 
that  the  city  had  gone  for  license  after  all.  The  rumor  at 
the  Rectangle  that  the  second  and   third  wards  had  gone 


140  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

no  license  provecl  to  be  false.  It  was  true  that  the  victory 
was  won  by  a  very  meager  majority.  But  the  result  was 
the  same  as  if  it  had  been  overwhelming.  Raymond  had 
voted  to  continue  another  year  the  saloon.  The  Christians 
of  Raymond  stood  condemned  by  the  result.  More  than  a 
hundred  Christians,  professing  disciples,  had  failed  to  go 
to  the  polls,  and  many  more  than  that  number  had  voted 
with  the  whisky  men.  If  all  the  church  members  of  Ray- 
mond had  voted  against  the  saloon,  it  would  to-day  be  out- 
lawed instead  of  crowned  king  of  the  municipality.  For 
that  had  been  the  fact  in  Raymond  for  years.  The  saloon 
ruled.  No  one  denied  that.  What  would  Jesus  do?  And 
the  woman  who  had  been  brutally  struck  down  by  the  very 
hand  that  had  assisted  so  eagerly  to  work  her  earthly  ruin, 
what  of  her?  Was  it  anything  more  than  the  logical 
sequence  of  the  whole  horrible  system  of  license  that  for 
another  year  the  saloon  that  received  her  so  often  and  com- 
passed her  degradation,  from  whose  very  spot  the  weapon 
had  been  hurled  that  struck  her  dead,  would  by  the  law 
which  the  Christian  people  of  Raymond  voted  to  support, 
open  its  doors  perhaps  to-morrow,  and  damn  with  earthly 
and  eternal  destruction  a  hundred  Loreens  before  the  year 
had  drawn  to  its  bloody  close? 

All  this,  with  a  voice  that  rang  and  trembled  and  broke 
in  sobs  of  anguish  for  the  result,  did  Henry  Maxwell  pour 
out  upon  his  people  that  Sunday  morning.  And  men  and 
women  wept  as  he  spoke.  Donald  Marsh  sat  there,  his 
usual  erect,  handsome,  firm,  bright,  self-confident  bearing 
all  gone;  his  head  bowed  upon  his  breast;  the  great  tears  roll- 
ing down  his  cheeks,  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  never  before 
had  he  shown  outward  emotion  in  a  public  service.  Edward 
Norman  near  by  sat  with  his  clear-cut,  keen  face  erect,  but 


'WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  141 

bis  lip  trembled  and  he  clutched  the  end  uf  the  pew  with  a 
feeling  of  emotion  that  struck  deep  into  his  liuowledge  of 
the  truth  as  Maxwell  spol^e  it.  No  man  had  given  or  suf- 
fered more  to  influence  public  opinion  that  last  week  than 
Norman.  The  thought  that  the  Christian  Conscience  bad 
been  aroused  too  late  or  too  feebly  lay  with  a  weight  of 
accusation  upon  the  heart  of  the  editor.  YVlmt  if  he  had 
begun  to  do  as  Jesus  would  long  ago?  ^yho  could  tell 
what  might  have  been  accomplished  by  this  time?  And  up 
in  the  choir,  Rachel  Winslow,  with  her  face  bowed  on  the 
railing  of  the  oak  screen,  gave  way  to  a  feeling  she  had  not 
yet  allowed  to  master  her;  but  it  so  unfitted  her  for  her 
part  that  when  Henry  Maxwell  finished  and  she  tried  to 
sing  the  closing  solo  after  the  prayer,  her  voice  broke,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  obliged  to  sit  dowMi 
sobbing  and  unable  to  go  on. 

Over  the  church,  in  the  silence  that  followed  this 
strange  scene,  sobs  and  the  noise  of  weeping  arose.  When 
had  the  First  Church  yielded  to  such  a  baptism  of  tears? 
What  had  become  of  its  regular,  precise,  cold,  conventional 
order  of  service,  undisturbed  by  any  vulgar  emotion  and 
immoved  by  any  foolish  excitement?  But  the  people  had 
lately  had  their  deepest  convictions  touched.  They  had 
been  living  so  long  on  their  surface  feelings  that  they  had 
almost  forgotten  the  deeper  wells  of  life.  Now  that  they 
had  broken  to  the  surface  the  people  were  convicted  of  the 
meaning  of  their  discipleship. 

Henry  Maxwell  did  not  ask  this  morning  for  volunteers 
to  .join  those  who  had  already  pledged  to  do  as  Jesus  would. 
But  when  the  congregation  had  finally  gone,  and  he  had 
entered  the  lecture-room  it  needed  but  a  glance  to  show  him 
that  the  original  company  of   followers   lin.l   been   largely 


142  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

increased.  The  meeting  was  tender,  it  glowed  with  the 
Spirit's  presence,  it  was  aliv^  with  strong  and  lasting 
resolve  to  begin  a  war  on  the  whisky  power  of  Raymond 
that  would  break  its  reign.  Since  the  first  Sunday  when 
the  first  company  of  volunteers  had  pledged  themselves  to 
do  as  Jesus  would  do,  the  different  meetings  had  been  char- 
acterized by  distinct  impulses  or  impressions.  To-day,  the 
entire  force  of  the  gathering  seemed  to  be  directed  to  this 
one  large  purpose.  It  was  a  meeting  full  of  broken  pray- 
ers, of  contrition,  confession,  of  strong  yearning  for  a  new 
and  better  city  life.  And  all  through  it  ran  the  one  general 
cry  for  deliverance  from  the  saloon  and  its  awful  curse. 

But  if  the  First  Church  was  deeply  stirred  by  the  events 
of  the  week  gone,  the  Rectangle  also  felt  moved  strongly  in 
its  own  way.  The  death  of  Loreen  was  not  in  itself  so 
remarkable  a  fact.  It  was  her  recent  acquaintance  with 
the  people  from  the  city  that  lifted  her  into  special  promi- 
nence and  surrounded  her  death  with  more  than  ordinary 
importance.  Every  one  in  the  Rectangle  knew  that  Loreen 
was  at  this  moment  lying  in  the  Page  mansion  up  on  the 
avenue.  Exaggerated  reports  of  the  magnificence  of  the 
casket  had  already  furnished  material  for  eager  gossip.  The 
Rectangle  was  excited  to  know  the  details  of  the  funeral. 
Would  it  be  public?  What  did  Miss  Page  intend  to  do? 
The  Rectangle  had  never  before  mingled  even  in  this  dis- 
tantly personal  manner  with  the  aristocracy  on  the  boule- 
vard. The  opportunities  for  doing  so  were  not  frequent. 
Gray  and  his  wife  were  besieged  by  inquiries  wanting  to 
know  what  Loreen's  friends  and  acquaintances  were 
expected  to  do  in  paying  their  last  respects  to  her.  For 
her  acquaintance  was  large  and  many  of  the  recent  con- 
verts were  among  her  friends. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  143 

So  that  is  how  it  happened  Monday  afternoon  at  the 
tent,  that  the  funeral  service  of  Loreen  was  held  before  an 
immense  audience  that  choked  the  tent  and  overflowed 
beyond  all  previous  bounds.  Gray  had  gone  to  Virginia's 
and  after  tallying  it  over  with  her  and  Henry  Maxwell  the 
arrangements  had  been  made. 

**I  am  and  always  have  been  opposed  to  large  public 
funerals,"  said  Gray,  whose  complete  wholesome  simplicity 
of  character  was  one  of  its  great  sources  of  strength,  "but 
the  cry  of  the  poor  creatures  who  Icnew  Loreen  is  so  ear- 
nest that  I  do  not  know  how  to  refuse  their  desire  to  see 
her  and  pay  her  poor  body  some  last  little  honor.  What 
do  you  think,  Mr.  Maxwell?  I  will  be  guided  by  your  judg- 
ment in  the  matter.  I  am  sure  that  whatever  you  and  Miss 
Page  think  is  best  will  be  right." 

"I  feel  as  you  do,"  replied  Mr.  Maxwell.  "Under  most 
circumstances  I  have  a  great  distaste  for  what  seems  like 
display  at  such  times.  But  this  seems  different.  The  peo- 
ple at  the  Rectangle  will  not  come  here  to  a  service.  I 
think  the  most  Christian  thing  will  be  to  let  them  have  the 
service  at  the  tent.    Do  you  think  so,  Virginia?" 

"Yes,"  said  Virginia  sadly.  "Poor  soul.  I  do  not  know 
but  that  sometime  I  shall  know  she  gave  her  life  for  mine. 
We  certainly  cannot  and  will  not  use  the  occasion  for  vul- 
gar display.  I^et  her  friends  be  allowed  the  gratification  of 
their  wishes.    I  see  no  harm  in  it." 

,  So  the  arrangements  were  made  with  some  difficulty 
for  the  service  at  the  tent;  and  Virginia  with  her  uncle 
and  liolliu.  accompanied  by  Henry  Maxwell,  Rachel,  and 
President  Marsh,  and  the  quartette  from  the  First  Church, 
went  down  and  witnessed  one  of  the  strange  scenes  of  their 
lives. 


144  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

It  happened  that  that  afternoon  a  noted  newspaper  cor- 
respondent was  passing  through  Raymond  on  his  way  to 
an  editorial  convention  in  a  neighboring  city.  He  heard  of 
the  contemplated  service  at  the  tent  and  was  present  that 
afternoon.  His  description  of  it  was  written  in  a  graphic 
style  that  caught  the  attention  of  very  many  readers  the 
next  day.  A  fragment  of  his  account  belongs  to  this  part 
of  the  history  of  Raymond: 

"There  was  a  very  unique  and  unusual  funeral  service 
held  here  this  afternoon  at  the  tent  of  an  evangelist,  Rev. 
John  Gray,  down  in  the  slum  district  linown  as  the  'Rec- 
tangle.' The  occasion  was  caused  by  the  killing  of  a  wom- 
an during  an  election  riot  last  Saturday  night.  It  seems 
she  had  been  recently  converted  during  the  evangelist's 
meetings  and  was  liilled  while  returning  from  one  of  the 
meetings  in  company  with  other  converts  and  some  of  her 
friends.  She  was  a  common  street  drunkard  and  yet  the 
services  at  the  tent  were  as  impressive  as  any  I  ever  wit- 
nessed in  a  metropolitan  church  over  the  most  distinguished 
citizen. 

"In  the  first  place,  a  most  exquisite  anthem  was  sung 
by  a  trained  choir.  It  struck  me,  of  course,  being  a  stranger 
to  the  place,  with  considerable  astonishment  to  hear  voices 
like  those  one  naturally  expects  to  hear  only  in  great 
churches  or  concerts  at  such  a  meeting  as  this.  But  the 
most  remarkable  part  of  the  music  was  a  solo  sung  by  a 
strikingly  beautiful  young  woman,  a  Miss  Winslow,  who-  if 
I  remember  rightly,  is  the  young  singer  who  was  sought 
for  by  Crandal,  the  manager  of  'National  Opera,'  and  who 
for  some  reason  refused  to  accept  his  offer  to  go  on  the 
stage.  She  had  a  most  wonderful  manner  in  singing  and 
everybody  was  weeping  before  she  had  sung  a  dozen  words. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  145 

That,  of  course,  is  not  so  strange  an  effect  to  be  produced 
at  a  funeral  service,  but  ttie  voice  itself  was  one  of  ten 
thousand.  I  understand  Miss  Winslow  sings  in  the  First 
Church  and  could  probably  command  almost  any  salary 
as  a  public  singer.  She  will  probably  be  heard  from  soon. 
Such  a  voice  could  win  its  way  anywhere. 

"The  service  aside  from  the  singing  was  peculiar.  The 
evangelist,  a  man  of  apparently  very  simple  unassuming 
style,  spoke  a  few  words  and  he  was  followed  by  a  fine- 
looking  man,  the  Rev.  Henry  Maxwell,  pastor  of  the  First 
Church  of  Raymond.  Mr.  Maxwell  spoke  of  the  fact  that 
the  dead  woman  had  been  fully  prepared  to  go,  but  he 
spoke  in  a  peculiarly  sensitive  manner  of  the  effect  of  the 
liquor  business  on  the  lives  of  men  and  women  like  this 
one.  Raymond,  of  course,  being  a  railroad  town,  and  the 
center  of  the  great  packing  interests  for  this  region,  is  full 
of  saloons.  I  caught  from  the  minister's  remarks  that  ho 
had  only  recently  changed  his  views  in  regard  to  license. 
He  certainly  made  a  very  striking  and  yet  it  was  in  no 
sense  an  inappropriate  address  for  a  funeral. 

"Then  followed  what  was  perhaps  the  queer  part  of  this 
strange  service.  The  women  in  the  tent,  at  least  a  large 
part  of  them  up  near  the  coffin,  began  to  sing  in  a  soft  tear 
ful  way,  'I  was  a  wandering  sheep;' 

"Then  while  the  singing  was  going  on,  one  row  of  wom- 
en stood  up  and  walked  slowly  past  the  casket,  and  as  they 
went  by,  each  one  placed  a  flower  of  some  kind  on  it.  Then 
they  sat  down  and  another  row  filed  past,  leaving  their 
tlowers.  All  the  time  the  singing  continued  softly  like  rain 
on  a  tent  cover  when  the  wind  is  gentle.  It  was  one  of 
the  simplest  and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  impres- 
sive sights  I  ever  witnessed.    The  sides  of  the  tent  were  up. 


146  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

and  hundreds  of  people  who  could  not  get  in  stood  outside 
all  as  still  as  death,  with  wonderful  sadness  and  solemnity 
for  such  rough  looking  people.  There  must  have  been  a 
hundred  of  these  women  and  I  was  told  many  of  them  had 
been  converted  at  the  meetings  just  recently.  I  cannot 
describe  the  effect  of  that  singing.  Not  a  man  sung  a  note. 
All  women's  voices,  and  so  soft  and  yet  so  distinct  that  the 
effect  was  startling. 

"The  service  closed  with  another  solo  by  Miss  Winslow 
who  sang,  'There  were  ninety  and  nine.'  And  then  the  evan- 
gelist asked  them  all  to  bow  their  heads  while  he  prayed. 
I  was  obliged  in  order  to  catch  my  train  to  leave  during  the 
prayer,  and  the  last  view  I  caught  of  the  scene  as  the  train 
went  by  the  shops  was  a  sight  of  the  great  crowd  pouring 
out  of  the  tent  and  forming  in  open  ranks  while  the  coffin 
was  borne  out  by  six  of  the  women.  It  is  a  long  time 
since  I  have  seen  such  a  picture  in  this  unpoetieal  Repub- 
lic." 

If  I.oreen's  funeral  impressed  a  passing  stranger  like 
this,  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  the  profound  feelings  of 
those  who  had  been  so  intimately  connected  with  her  life 
and  death.  Nothing  had  ever  entered  the  Rectangle  that 
had  moved  it  so  deeply  as  Loreen's  body  in  that  coffin.  And 
the  Holy  Spirit  seemed  to  bless  with  special  power  the  use 
of  this  senseless  clay.  For  that  night  at  the  meeting  He 
swept  more  than  a  score  of  lost  souls,  mostly  women,  into 
the  fold  of  the  good  Shepherd. 

It  should  be  said  here  that  Henry  Maxwell's  statement 
concerning  the  opening  of  the  saloon  from  whose  window 
Loreen  had  been  killed  proved  nearly  exactly  true.  It  was 
formally  closed  Monday  and  Tuesday  while  the  authorities 
made  arrests  of  the  proprietor  charged  with  the  murder. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  147 

But  nothing  could  be  proved  against  any  one,  and  before 
Saturday  of  that  Aveek  the  saloon  was  running  as  regularly 
as  ever.  No  one  on  the  earth  Avas  ever  punished  by  earthly 
courts  for  the  murder  of  Loreen. 

No  one  in  all  Raymond,  including  the  Rectangle,  felt 
Loreen's  death  more  keenly  than  Virginia.  It  came  like  a 
distinct  personal  loss  to  her.  That  short  week  while  Loreen 
had  been  in  her  home  had  opened  Virginia's  heart  to  a  new 
life.  She  was  talking  it  over  with  Rachel  the  day  after 
the  funeral.  They  were  sitting  in  the  hall  of  the  Page 
mansion. 

"I  am  going  to  do  something  with  my  money  to  help 
these  women  to  a  better  life."  Virginia  looked  over  to  the 
end  of  the  hall  Avhere,  the  day  before,  Loreen's  body  had 
lain.  "I  have  decided  on  a  good  plan,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
I  have  talked  it  over  with  Rollin.  He  will  devote  a  large 
part  of  his  money  also  to  the  same  plan." 

"How  much  money  have  you,  Virginia,  to  give  in  this 
way?"asked  Rachel.  Once  she  would  never  have  asked 
such  a  personal  question.  Now,  it  seemed  as  natural  to  talk 
frankly  about  money  as  about  anything  else  that  belonged 
to  God. 

"I  have  available  for  use  at  least  four  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  Rollin  has  as  much  more.  It  is  one  of 
his  bitter  regrets  now  that  his  extravagant  habits  of  life 
before  his  conversion  practically  threw  away  half  that 
father  left  him.  We  are  both  eager  to  make  all  the  repara- 
tion in  our  power.  'What  would  Jesus  do  with  this  money?' 
We  want  to  answer  that  question  honestly  and  wisely.  The 
money  I  shall  put  into  the  'News'  is,  I  am  confident,  in  line 
with  Jesus'  probable  action.  It  is  as  necessary  that  we  have 


148  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

a  daily  Christian  paper  in  Raymond,  especially  liow  that 
we  have  the  saloon  influence  to  meet,  as  it  is  to  have  a 
church  or  a  college.  So  I  am  satisfied  that  the  five  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars  that  Mr.  Norman  will  know  how  to 
use  so  well  will  be  a  powerful  factor  in  Raymond  to  do  as 
Jesus  would  do. 

"About  my  other  plan,  Rachel,  I  want  you  to  work  with 
me.  Rollin  and  I  are  going  to  buy  up  a  large  part  of  the  prop- 
erty in  the  Rectangle.  The  field  where  the  tent  now  is  has 
been  in  litigation  for  years.  We  mean  to  secure  the  entire 
tract  as  soon  as  the  courts  have  settled  the  title.  For  some 
time  I  have  been  making  a  special  study  of  the  various 
forms  of  college  settlements  and  resident  methods  of  Chris- 
tian work  and  institutional  church  work  in  the  heart  of 
great  city  slums.  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  yet  been 
able  to  tell  just  what  is  the  wisest  and  most  effective  kind 
of  work  that  can  be  done  in  Raymond.  But  I  do  know  this 
much.  My  money  (I  mean  God's,  which  He  wants  me  to 
use)  can  build  wholesome  lodging  houses,  refuges  for  poor 
women,  asylums  for  shop  girls,  safety  for  many  and  many 
a  lost  girl  like  Loreen.  And  I  do  not  want  to  be  simply 
a  dispenser  of  this  money.  God  help  me!  I  do  want  to 
put  myself  into  the  problem.  But  do  you  know,  Rachel,  I 
have  a  feeling  all  the  time  that  all  that  limitless  money 
and  limitless  personal  sacrifice  can  possibly  do,  will  not 
really  lessen  very  much  the  awful  conditions  at  the  Rec- 
tangle as  long  as  the  saloon  is  legally  established  there. 
I  think  that  is  true  of  any  Christian  work  now  being  car- 
ried on  in  any  great  city.  The  saloon  furnishes  material 
to  be  saved  faster  than  the  settlement  or  residence  or  Res- 
cue Mission  work  can  save  it." 

Virginia    suddenly    rose    and  paced  the  hall.      Rachel 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS   DOV"  149 

answered  sadly.  And  yet  with  a  note  of  liope  in  her 
voice. 

"It  is  true.  But  Oh,  Virginia,  what  a  wonderful  amount 
of  happiness  and  power  can  come  out  of  this  money  I  And 
the  saloon  cannot  always  remain  here.  The  time  must 
come  when  the  Christian  force  in  the  city  will  triumph." 

Virginia  paused  near  Rachel,  and  her  pale,  earnest  face 
lighted  up. 

"I  believe  that  too.  The  number  of  those  who  have 
promised  to  do  as  Jesus  would  is  increasing.  If  we  once 
have,  say  five  hundred  such  disciples  in  Raymond,  the 
saloon  is  doomed.  But  now,  dear,  I  want  you  to  look  at 
your  part  In  this  plan  for  capturing  and  saving  the  Rec- 
tangle. Your  voice  is  a  power.  I  have  had  many  ideas 
lately.  Here  Is  one  of  them.  You  could  organize  among 
the  girls  a  Musical  Institute.  Give  them  the  benefit  of  your 
training.  There  are  some  splendid  voices  in  the  rough 
there.  Did  any  one  ever  hear  such  singing  as  that  yester- 
day by  those  women?  Rachel,  w^hat  a  beautiful  opportu- 
nity! You  shall  have  the  best  of  opportunity  in  the  way  of 
organs  and  orchestras  that  money  can  provide,  and  what 
cannot  be  done  with  music  to  win  souls  there  Into  higher 
and  better  and  purer  living?" 

Before  Virginia  had  ceased  speaking,  Rachel's  face  was 
perfectly  transfigured  with  the  thought  of  her  life  work.  It 
flowed  into  her  heart  and  mind  like  a  flood  and  the  tor- 
rent of  her  feeling  overflowed  In  tears  that  could  not  be 
restrained.  It  was  what  she  had  dreamed  of  doing  her- 
self. It  represented  to  her  something  that  she  felt  was  In 
keeping  with  a  right  use  of  her  own  talent. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  as  she  rose  and  put  her  arms  about 
Virginia,  while  both  girls  In  the  excitement  of  their  enthu- 


150  IN  HIS  STEPS 

siasm  paced  the  hall,  "Yes,  I  will  gladly  put  my  life  into 
that  kiDd  of  service.  I  do  believe  that  Jesus  would  have 
me  use  my  life  in  this  way.  Virginia,  what  miracles  can 
we  not  accomplish  with  humanity  if  we  have  such  a  lever 
as  consecrated  money  to  move  things  with!" 

"Add  to  it  consecrated  personal  enthusiasm  like  yours, 
and  it  certainly  can  accomplish  great  things,"  said  Virginia 
smiling.  And  then  before  Rachel  could  reply,  RoUin 
came  in. 

He  hesitated  a  moment  and  was  passing  out  of  the  hall 
into  the  library  when  Virginia  called  him  and  asked  some 
questions  about  his  work. 

RoUin  came  back  and  sat  down  and  together  the  three 
discussed  their  future  plans.  Rollin  was  apparently  entirely 
free  from  embarrassment  in  Rachel's  presence  while  Vir- 
ginia ^VSLS  Avith  them.  Only  his  manner  with  her  was 
almost  precise  if  not  cold.  The  past  seemed  to  be  entirely 
absorbed  in  his  wonderful  conversion.  He  had  not  for- 
gotten it,  but  he  seemed  to  be  completely  caught  up  for 
this  present  time  in  the  purpose  of  this  new  life. 

After  a  while,  Rollin  was  called  out,  and  Rachel  and 
A^irginia  began  to  talk  of  other  things. 

"By  the  way,  what  has  become  of  Jasper  Chase?"  Vir- 
ginia asked  the  question  innocently  enough,  but  Rachel 
blushed  and  Virginia  added  with  a  smile,  "I  suppose  he  is 
writing  another  book.  Is  he  going  to  put  you  into  this  one, 
Rachel?  You  know  I  always  suspected  Jasper  Chase  of 
doing  that  very  thing  in  his  first  story." 

"Virginia,"  Rachel  spoke  with  the  frankness  that  had 
always  existed  between  the  two  friends,  "Jasper  Chase 
told  me  the  other  night,  that  he— in  fact— he  proposed  to 
me— or  he  would,  if—" 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  151 

Rachel  stopped  and  sat  with  her  hands  clasped  on  her 
lap,  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"Vn-ginla,  1  thought  a  little  while  ago  that  I  loved  him, 
as  he  said  he  loved  me.  But  when  he  spoke,  my  heart 
felt  repelled  and  I  said  what  I  ought  to  say.  I  told  him  No. 
I  have  not  seen  him  since.  That  was  the  night  of  the  first 
conversions  at  the  Rectangle." 

"I  am  glad  for  you,"  said  Virginia  quietly. 

"Why?"  asked  Rachel  a  little  startled. 

"Because  I  have  never  really  liked  Jasper  Chase.  He 
is  too  cold  and— 1  do  not  like  to  judge  him,  but  I  have 
always  distrusted  his  sincerity  in  taking  the  pledge  at  the 
church  with  the  rest." 

Rachel  looked  at  Virginia  thoughtfully. 

"I  have  never  given  my  heart  to  him,  I  am  sure.  He 
touched  my  emotions  and  I  admired  his  skill  as  a  writer. 
I  have  thought  at  times  that  1  eared  a  good  deal  for  him. 
I  think,  perhaps,  if  he  had  spoken  to  me  at  any  other  time 
than  the  one  he  chose,  I  could  easily  have  persuaded 
myself  that  I  loved  him.    But  not  now." 

Again  Rachel  paused  suddenly,  and  when  she  looked  up 
at  Virginia  again  there  were  tears  on  her  face.  Virginia 
came  to  her  and  put  her  arm  about  her  tenderly. 

When  Rachel  had  left  the  house, Virginia  sat  in  the  hall 
thinking  over  the  confidence  her  friend  had  just  shown  her. 
There  was  something  still  to  be  told,  Virginia  felt  sure 
from  Rachel's  manner,  but  she  did  not  feel  hurt  that  Rachel 
had  kept  back  something.  She  was  simply  conscious  of 
more  on  Rachel's  mind  than  she  had  revealed. 

Very  soon  Rollin  came  back  and  he  and  Virginia,  arm 
In  arm,  as  they  had  lately  been  in  the  habit  of  doing,  walked 
up  and  down  the  long  hall. 


152  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

It  was  easy  for  their  talk  to  settle  finally  upon  Rachel, 
because  of  the  place  she  was  to  occupy  in  the  plans  which 
were  being  made  for  the  purchase  of  the  property  at  the 
Rectangle. 

"Did  you  ever  know  a  girl  of  such  really  gifted  powers 
in  vocal  music  who  vras  willing  to  give  her  whole  life  to 
the  people  as  Rachel  is  going  to  do?  She  is  going  to  give 
music  lessons  In  the  city,  have  private  pupils  to  make  her 
living,  and  then  give  the  people  in  the  Rectangle  the  benefit 
of  her  culture  and  her  voice." 

"It  is  certainly  a  very  good  example  of  self-sacrifice," 
replied  Rollin  a  little  stiffly. 

Virginia  looked  at  him  a  little  sharply. 

"But  don't  you  think  it  is  a  very  unusual  example?  Can 
you  imagine--"  Here  Virginia  named  half  a  dozen  famous 
opera  singers— "doing  anything  of  this  sort?" 

"No,  I  can't,"  Rollin  answered  briefly.  "Neither  can  I 
imagine  Miss—"  he  spoke  the  name  of  the  girl  with  the  red 
parasol  who  had  begged  Virginia  to  take  the  girls  to  the 
Rectangle— "doing  what  you  are  doing,  Virginia." 

"Any  more  than  I  can  imagine  Mr.—"  Virginia  spoke 
the  name  of  a  young  society  leader— "going  about  to  the 
clubs  doing  your  work,  Rollin." 

The  two  walked  on  in  silence  for  the  length  of  the  hall. 

"Coming  back  to  Rachel,"  began  Virginia,  "Rollin,  why 
do  you  treat  her  with  such  a  distant,  precise  manner?  I 
think,  Rollin,  pardon  me  if  I  hurt  you,  that  she  is  annoyed 
by  it.  You  used  to  be  on  easy  terms.  I  don't  think  Rachel 
likes  this  change." 

Rollin  suddenly  stopped.  He  seemed  deeply  agitated. 
He  took  his  arm  from  Virginia's  and  walked  down  to  the 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  158 

end  of  the  hall.      Then  he  returned,  with  his  arms  behind 
him  and  stopping  near  his  sister,  he  said, 

"Virginia,  have  you  not  learned  my  secret?" 

Virginia  looked  bewildered,  then  over  her  face  the 
unusual  color  crept,  showing  that  she  understood. 

"I  have  never  loved  any  one  but  Rachel  Winslow,"  Rol- 
lin  spolie  calmly  enough  now.  "That  day  she  was'  here 
when  you  talked  about  her  refusal  to  join  the  concert  com- 
pany, I  asked  her  to  be  my  wife.  Out  there  on  the  avenue. 
She  refused  me,  as  I  knew  she  would.  And  she  gave  as 
her  reason  the  fact  that  I  had  no  purpose  in  life,  which  was 
true  enough.  Now  that  I  have  a  purpose,  now  that  I  am  a 
new  man,  don't  you  see,  Virginia,  how  impossible  it  is  for 
me  to  say  anything?  I  owe  my  very  conversion  to  Rachel's 
ringing.  And  yet  that  night  while  she  sang  I  can  honestly 
say  that  for  the  time  being  I  never  thought  of  her  voice 
except  as  God's  message.  I  believe  all  my  personal  love 
for  her  was  for  the  time  merged  into  a  personal  love  to  God 
and  my  Savior."  Rollln  was  silent,  then  he  went  on  with 
more  emotion.  "I  am  still  in  love  with  her,  Virginia.  But 
I  do  not  think  she  could  ever  love  me."  He  stopped  and 
looked  his  sister  in  the  face  with  a  sad  smile. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Virginia  to  herself.  She 
was  noting  Rollin's  handsome  face,  its  marks  of  dissipation 
nearly  all  gone  now,  the  firm  lips  showing  manhood  and 
courage,  the  clear  eyes  looking  into  hers  frankly,  the  form 
strong  and  graceful.  Rollin  was  a  man  now.  W^hy  should 
not  Rachel  come  to  love  him  in  time?  Surely  the  two  were 
well  fitted  for  each  other,  especially  now  that  their  purpose 
in  life  was  moved  by  the  same  Christian  source. 

She  said  something  of  all  this  to  Rollin,  but  he  did  not 
find  much  comfort.    When  they  closed  the  interview,  Vir- 


IM:  IN   HIS  STEPS. 

ginia  carried  awaj^  the  impression  that  RoUin  meant  to  go 
his  way  with  his  chosen  work,  trying  to  reach  the  fashion- 
able men  at  the  clubs,  and  while  not  avoiding  Rachel,  seek- 
ing no  occasion  for  meeting  her.  He  was  distrustful  of  his 
power  to  control  his  feelings.  And  Virginia  could  see  thai 
he  dreaded  even  the  thought  of  a  second  refusal  in  case  he 
did  let  Rachel  know  that  his  love  was  still  the  same. 

The  next  day  she  went  down  to  the  "News"  Office  to 
see  Edward  Norman  and  arrange  the  details  of  her  part 
in  the  establishment  of  the  paper  on  its  new  foundation. 
Henry  Maxwell  was  present  at  this  conference,  and  the 
three  agreed  that,  whatever  Jesus  would  do  in  detail  as 
editor  of  a  daily  paper.  He  would  be  guided  by  the  same 
general  principles  that  directed  His  conduct  as  the  Savior 
of  the  world. 

"I  have  tried  to  put  down  here  in  concrete  form  some  of 
the  things  which  it  has  seemed  to  me  .Jesus  would  do,"  said 
Edward  Norman.  He  read  from  a  paper  lying  on  his  desk 
and  Henry  Maxwell  was  reminded  again  of  liis  own  elTort 
to  put  into  written  form  his  oAvn  conception  of  Jesus'  prob- 
able action  and  also  of  Milton  Wright's  attempt  in  his  busi- 
ness. 

"I  have  headed  this,  'What  would  Jesus  do  as  Edward 
Norman,  editor  of  a  daily  Newspaper  in  Raymond?' 

"1.  He  would  never  allow  a  sentence  or  a  picture  in  His 
paper  that  could  be  called  bad  or  coarse  or  impure  in  any 
way. 

"2.  He  would  probably  conduct  the  political  part  of  the 
paper  from  the  standpoint  of  non-partisan  patriotism, 
always  looking  upon  all  political  questions  in  the  light  of 
their  relations  to  the  welfare  of  the  people,  always  on  the 
basis  of,  'What  is  right?'  never  from  the  basis  of,  'What  is 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  155 

for  the  best  interests  of  this  or  that  party?'  In  other  words, 
He  would  treat  every  political  subject  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  advancement  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  on  the  earth." 

Edward  Norman  looked  up  from  the  reading  for  a 
moment.  "You  understand  that  is  my  interpretation  of 
Jesus'  probable  action  on  political  matters  in  a  daily  paper. 
1  am  not  passing  judgment  on  other  newspaper  men  who 
may  have  a  different  conception  of  Jesus'  probable  action 
from  mine.  I  am  simply  trying  to  answer  honestly,  'What 
would  Jesus  do  as  Edward  Norman?'  And  the  answer  I 
find  is  what  I  have  put  down.". 

"3.  The  end  and  aim  of  a  daily  paper  conducted  by  Jesus 
would  be  to  do  the  will  of  God.  That  is,  His  main  purpose 
in  carrying  on  a  newspaper  would  not  be  to  make  money, 
or  gain  political  influence,  but  His  first  and  ruling  purpose 
should  be  so  to  conduct  His  paper  that  It  would  be  evident 
to  all  His  subscribers  that  He  was  trying  to  seek  first  the 
Kingdom  of  God  by  means  of  His  paper.  This  purpose 
would  be  as  distinct  and  unquestioned  as  the  purpose  of  a 
minister  or  a  missionary  or  any  other  unselfish  martyr  in 
Christian  work  anywhere. 

"4.  .AH  questionable  advertisements  would  be  impossi- 
ble. 

"5.  The  relation  of  Jesus  to  the  employes  on  the  paper 
would  be  of  the  most  loving  character." 

"So  far  as  I  have  gone,"  said  Norman,  again  looking  up, 
"I  am  of  the  opinion  that  Jesus  would  employ  practically 
some  form  of  co-operation  that  would  represent  the  idea 
of  mutual  interest  in  a  business  where  all  were  to  move 
together  for  the  same  great  end.  I  am  working  out  such  a 
plan  and  I  am  confident  it  will  be  successful.  At  any  rate, 
once  introdnce  the  element  of  personal  love  Into  a  business 


156  IN   HIS  STEPS. 

like  this,  take  out  the  selfish  principle  of  doing  it  for  the 
sake  of  personal  profits  to  a  man  or  companj^  and  I  do  not 
see  any  way  except  the  most  loving  personal  interest 
between  editor,  reporters,  pressmen  and  all  who  contributed 
anything  to  the  life  of  the  paper.  And  that  interest  would 
be  expressed  not  only  in  the  personal  love  and  sympathy 
but  in  a  sharing  with  the  profits  of  the  business. 

"6.  As  editor  of  a  daily  paper  to-day,  Jesus  would  give 
large  space  to  the  work  of  the  Christian  world.  He  would 
devote  a  page  possibly  to  the  facts  of  reform,  of  sociolog- 
ical problems,  of  institutional  church  work  and  similar 
movements. 

"7.  He  would  do  all  in  His  power  in  His  paper  to  fight 
the  saloon  as  an  enemy  of  the  human  race  and  an  unneces- 
sary part  of  our  present  civilization.  He  would  do  this 
regardless  of  public  sentiment  in  the  matter  and,  of  course, 
always  regardless  of  its  effect  on  His  subscription  list." 

Again  Edward  Norman  looked  up.  "I  state  my  honest 
conviction  on  this  point.  Of  course  I  do  not  pass  judgment 
on  the  Christian  men  who  are  editing  other  kinds  of  papers 
to-day.  But  as  I  interpret  Jesus,  I  believe  He  would  use 
the  influence  of  His  paper  to  remove  the  saloon  entirely 
from  the  political  and  social  life  of  the  nation." 

"8.  Jesus  would  not  issue  a  Sunday  edition. 

"9.  He  would  print  the  news  of  the  world  that  people 
ought  to  know.  Among  the  things  that  they  do  not  need 
to  know  and  which  would  not  be  published  would  be  brutal 
prize  fights,  long  accounts  of  crimes,  scandals  in  private 
families,  or  any  other  human  events  which  in  any  way 
would  conflict  with  the  flrst  point  mentioned  in  this  out- 
line. 

"10.  If  Jeeus  had  the  amount  of  money  to  use  on  a  paper 


*'WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  loT 

which  we  have,  He  would  probably  secure  the  best  and 
strongest  Christian  men  and  women  to  co-operate  with 
Him  in  the  matter  of  contributors.  That  will  be  my  pur- 
pose as  I  shall  be  able  to  show  you  in  a  few  days. 

"11.  Whatever  the  details  of  the  paper  might  demand 
as  the  paper  developed  along  its  definite  plan,  the  main 
principle  that  guided  it  would  always  be  the  establishment 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God  in  the  world.  This  large  general 
principle  would  necessarily  shape  all  the  details." 

Edward  Norman  finished  reading  his  plan.  He  was 
very  thoughtful. 

"I  have  merely  sketched  a  very  faint  outline.  I  have  a 
hundred  ideas  for  making  the  paper  powerful  that  I  have 
not  yet  thought  out  fully.  This  is  simply  suggestive.  I 
have  talked  it  over  with  other  newspaper  men.  Some  of 
them  say  I  will  have  a  weak,  namby-pamby  Sunday-school 
sheet.  If  I  get  out  something  as  good  as  a  Sunday-school 
it  will  be  pretty  good.  "Why  do  men  when  they  want  to 
characterize  something  as  particularly  feeble  always  use  a 
Sunday-school  as  a  comparison,  when  they  ought  to  know 
that  the  Sunday-school  is  one  of  the  strongest,  most  power- 
ful influences  in  our  civilization  in  this  country  to-day.  But 
the  paper  will  not  necessarily  be  weak  because  it  is  good. 
Good  things  are  more  powerful  than  bad.  The  question 
with  me  is  largely  one  of  support  from  the  Christian  peo- 
ple of  Raymond.  There  are  over  twenty  thousand  church 
members  here  in  the  city.  If  half  of  them  will  stand  by 
the  'News,'  its  life  is  assured.  What  do  you  think,  Max- 
well, is  the  probability  of  such  support?" 

"I  don't  know  enough  about  it  to  give  an  intelligent 
answer.  I  believe  in  the  paper  with  all  my  heart.  If  it 
lives  a  year,  as  Miss  Virginia  said,  tliere  is  no  telling  what 


158  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

it  can  do.  The  great  thing  will  be  to  issue  such  a  paper 
as  near  as  we  can  judge  as  Jesus  probably  would,  and  put 
into  it  all  the  elements  of  Christian  brains,  strength,  intel- 
ligence, and  sense,  and  command  respect  by  the  absence 
of  bigotry,  fanaticism,  narrowness  and  anything  else  that 
is  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Jesus.  Such  a  paper  will  call 
for  the  best  that  human  thought  and  action  are  capable  of 
giving.  The  greatest  minds  in  the  world  would  have  their 
powers  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  issue  a  Christian  daily." 

"Yes,"  Edward  Norman  spolie  humbly.  "I  shall  make 
great  mistakes,  no  doubt.  I  need  a  great  deal  of  wisdom. 
But  I  want  to  do  as  Jesus  would.  'What  would  He  do?' 
I  have  asked  it  daily,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so  and  abide 
by  results." 

"I  think  we  are  beginning  to  understand,"  said  Virginia, 
"the  meaning  of  that  command,  'grow  in  the  grace  and 
knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Savior  Jesus  Christ.'  I  am 
sure  I  do  not  know  all  that  He  would  do  in  detail  until  I 
know  Him  better." 

"That  is  very  true,"  said  Henry  Maxwell.  "I  am  begin- 
ning to  understand  that  I  cannot  interpret  the  probable 
action  of  Jesus  until  I  know  better  what  His  -spirit  is.  To 
my  mind  the  greatest  question  in  all  of  human  life  is 
summed  up  when  we  ask,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  if  as  we 
ask  it,  Ave  also  try  to  answer  it  from  a  growing  knowledge 
of  Jesus  Himself.  We  must  know  Jesus  before  we  can 
imitate  Him." 

When  the  arrangements  had  been  made  botvreen  Vir- 
ginia and  Edward  Norman,  he  found  himself  in  possession 
of  the  sum  of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars,  exclusively  his 
to  use  for  the  establishment  of  a  Christian  daily  paper. 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  159 

When  Virginia  and  Henry  Maxwell  had  gone,  Norman 
closed  his  door  and,  alone  with  the  divine  presence,  aslied 
like  a  child  for  help  from  his  All-powerful  Father.  All 
through  his  prayer  as  he  kneeled  before  his  desk  ran  the 
promise,  "If  any  man  lack  wisdom  let  him  ask  of  God 
who  giveth  to  all  men  liberally  and  upbraideth  not,  and 
it  shall  be  given  him."  Surely  his  prayer  would  be 
answered  and  the  Kingdom  be  advanced  through  this 
instrument  of  God's  power,  this  mighty  Press  which  had 
become  so  largely  degraded  to  the  base  uses  of  man's 
avarice  and  ambition. 

Two  months  went  by.  They  were  full  of  action  and 
results  in  the  city  of  Raymond  and  especially  in  the  First 
Church.  In  spite  of  the  approaching  heat  of  the  summer 
season,  the  after-meeting  of  the  disciples  who  had  made 
the  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do  continued  with  enthu- 
siasm and  power.  Gray  had  finished  his  work  at  the  Rec- 
tangle and  an  outward  observer  going  through  the  place 
could  not  have  seen  any  difference  in  the  old  conditions, 
although  there  was  an  actual  change  in  hundreds  of  lives. 
But  the  saloons,  dens,  hovels,  gambling  houses,  still  ran, 
overflowing  their  vileness  into  the  lives  of  fresh  victims 
to  take  the  place  of  those  rescued  by  the  evangelist.  And 
the  devil  recruited  his  ranks  very  fast. 

Henry  Maxwell  did  not  go  abroad.  Instead  of  that 
he  took  the  money  he  had  been  saving  for  the  trip  and 
quietly  arranged  a  summer  vacation  for  a  whole  family 
living  down  in  the  Rectangle,  who  had  never  gone  outside 
of  the  foul  district  of  the  tenement.  The  pastor  of  the 
F'irst  Church  will  never  forget  the  week  he  spent  with  this 
family  making  the  arrangements.  He  went  down  into  the 
Rectangle  one  hot  day  when  something  of  the  terrible  heat  of 


160  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

the  tenements  was  beginning  to  be  felt  and  helped  the  fam- 
ily to  the  station,  and  then  went  with  them  to  a  beautiful 
spot  on  the  coast  where,  in  the  home  of  a  Christian  woman, 
these  bewildered  city  tenants  breathed  for  the  first  time 
in  years  the  cool  salt  air  and  felt  blow  about  them  the 
pine  scented  fragrance  of  a  new  lease  of  life. 

There  was  a  siclily  baby  with  the  mother.  Three  other 
children,  one  a  cripple.  The  father  who  had  been  out  of 
work  until  he  had  been,  as  he  afterwards  confessed  to 
Maxwell,  several  times  on  the  verge  of  suicide,  sat  with  the 
baby  in  his  arms  during  the  journey,  and  when  Maxwell 
started  bacli  to  Raymond  after  seeing  the  family  settled, 
the  man  held  his  hand  at  parting,  and  choked  with  his 
utterance,  and  finally  broke  down,  to  Maxwell's  great  con- 
fusion. The  mother,  a  wearied,  worn-out  woman,  who  had 
lost  three  children  the  year  before  from  a  fever  scourge  in 
the  Rectangle,  sat  by  the  car  window  all  the  way  and 
drank  in  the  delights  of  sea  and  sky  and  field.  It  was  all 
a  miracle  to  her.  And  Henry  Maxwell  coming  back  into 
Raymond  at  the  end  of  that  week,  feeling  the  scorching, 
sickening  heat  all  the  more  because  of  his  little  taste  of 
the  ocean  breezes,  thanked  God  for  the  joy  he  had  witnessed 
and  entered  upon  his  discipleship  with  a  humble  heart, 
knowing  for  almost  the  first  time  in  his  life  this  special 
kind  of  sacrifice.  For  never  before  had  he  denied  himself  his 
regular  summer  trip  away  from  the  heat  of  Raymond, 
whether  he  felt  in  any  great  need  of  rest  or  not. 

"It  is  a  fact,"  he  said  in  reply  to  several  inquiries  on 
the  part  of  his  church,  "I  do  not  feel  in  need  of  a  vacation 
this  year.  I  am  very  well  and  prefer  to  stay  here."  It 
was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  he  succeeded  in  concealing 
from  every  one  but  his  wife  what  he  had  done  with  this 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  161 

Other  family.  He  felt  the  need  of  doing  anything  of  that 
sort  without  display  or  approval  from  others. 

So  the  summer  came  on,  and  Henry  Maxwell  grew  into 
larger  knowledge  of  his  Lord.  The  First  Church  was  still 
swayed  by  the  power  of  the  Spirit.  Maxwell  marveled  at 
the  continuance  of  His  stay.  He  knew  very  well  that 
from  the  beginning  nothing  but  the  Spirit's  presence  had 
kept  the  church  from  being  torn  asunder  by  this  remarka- 
ble testing  it  had  received  of  its  discipleship.  Even  now 
there  were  many  of  the  members  among  those  who  had 
not  taken  the  pledge  who  regarded  the  whole  movement 
as  Mrs.  Winslow  did,  in  the  nature  of  a  fanatical  interpreta- 
tion of  Christian  duty,  and  looked  for  a  return  of  the  old 
normal  condition.  Meanwhile,  the  whole  body  of  disci- 
ples was  under  the  influence  of  the  Spirit,  and  Henry  Max- 
well went  his  way  that  summer  doing  his  parish  work  in 
great  joy,  keeping  up  his  meetings  with  the  railroad  men 
as  he  had  promised  Alexander  Powers,  and  daily  growing 
into  a  better  knowledge  of  the  Master. 

Early  one  evening  in  August,  after  a  day  of  refreshing 
coolness  following  a  long  period  of  heat,  Jasper  Chase 
walked  to  the  window  of  his  room  in  the  apartment  house 
on  the  avenue  and  looked  out. 

On  his  desk  lay  a  pile  of  manuscript.  Since  that  even- 
ing when  he  had  spoken  to  Eachel  Winslow  he  had  not 
met  her.  His  singularly  sensitive  nature,  sensitive  to  the 
point  of  irritability  when  he  was  thwarted,  seemed  to 
thrust  him  into  an  isolation  that  was  intensified  by  his 
habits  as  an  author. 

All  through  the  heat  of  the  summer  he  had  been  writ- 
ing. His  book  was  nearly  done  now.  He  had  thrown 
himself  into  its  construction  with  a  feverish  strength  that 


162  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

threatened  at  any  moment  to  desert  him  and  leave  him 
helpless.      He  had  not  forgotten  his  pledge  with  the  other 
church  members  at  the  First  Church.      It  had  forced  itself 
upon   his    notice    all    through  his  writing  and  ever  since 
Rachel  had  said  No  to  him.      He  had  aslied  a  thousand 
times,  'Would  Jesus  do  this?'      'Would  he  write  this  story?' 
It  Avas  a  society  novel  written  in  a  stj'le  that  had  proved 
popular.      It  had  no  purpose  except  to  amuse.      Its  moral 
teaching  was  not  bad,  but  neither  was  it  Christian  in  any 
positive  way.     Jasper  Chase  Ivuew  that  such  a  story  would 
sell.      He  was  conscious  of  powers  in  his  way  that  the 
social  world  petted  and  admired.      AVhat  would  Jesus  do? 
The    question    obtruded    on  him  at  the  most  inopportune 
times.      He  became   irascible  over   it.      The   standard   of 
Jesus  as  an  author  was  too  ideal.      Of  course  Jesus  would 
use  His  powers  to  produce  something  useful,  or  helpful,  or 
Avith  a  purpose.      What  was  he,  Jasper  Chase,  writing  this 
novel  for?      Why,   what   nearly   every   writer   wrote   for, 
namely,  money  and  fame  as  a  writer.     There  was  no  secret 
with  him  that  he  was  writing  this  new  story  with  that 
object.      He  was  not  poor  and  so  had  no  temptation  to 
write  for  money.      But  he  was  urged  on  by  his  desire  for 
fame  as  much  as  anything      He  must  write 'this  kind  of 
matter.     But  what  would  Jesus  do  ?     The  question  plagued 
him  even  more  than  Rachel's  refusal.      Was  he  going  to 
break  his  promise? 

As  he  stood  at  the  window  Rollin  Page  came  out  of  the 
club  house  just  opposite.  Jasper  noted  his  handsome 
face  and  noble  figure  as  he  started  down  the  street.  He 
went  back  to  his  desk  and  turned  over  some  papers  there. 
Then  he  returned  to  the  window.  Rollin  was  walking 
down  pBst  the  block  and  Rachel  Winslow  was  walkipg 


*'WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  163 

beside  him.      RoUin  must  have  overtaken  her  as  she  was 
coming  from  Virginia's,  that  afternoon. 

Jasper  v^-atched  the  two  figures  until  they  disappeared 
in  the  crowd  on  the  walk.  Then  he  turned  to  his  desk  and 
began  to  write.  When  he  had  finished  the  last  imge  of  the 
last  chapter  of  his  book,  it  was  nearly  dark.  What  would 
Jesus  do  ?  He  had  finally  answered  the  question  by  deny- 
ing his  Lord.  It  grevv'  darker  in  Jasper's  room.  He  had 
deliberately  chosen  his  course,  urged  on  by  his  disappoint 
ment  and  loss. 

"But  Jesus  said  unto  him,  no  man  having  put  his  hand 
to  the  plow  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

"What  is  that  to  thee?    Follow  thou  me." 

When  Rollin  started  down  the  street  that  afternoon 
that  Jasper  stood  looking  out  of  his  window,  he  was  not 
thinking  of  Rachel  Winslow  and  did  not  expect  to  see  her 
anywhere.  He  had  come  suddenly  upon  her  as  she  turned 
into  the  avenue  and  his  heart  had  leaped  up  at  the  sight 
of  her.  He  walked  along  by  her  now,  rejoicing  after  all 
in  a  little  moment  of  this  earthly  love  he  could  not  drive 
out  of  his  life. 

"I  have  just  been  over  to  see  Virginia,"  said  Rachel. 
"She  tells  me  the  arrangements  are  nearly  completed  for 
the  transfer  of  the  Rectangle  property." 

"Yes.  It  has  been  a  tedious  case  in  the  courts.  Did 
Virginia  show  you  all  the  plans  and  specifications  for 
buildings?" 

"We  looked  over  a  good  many.  It  is  astonishing  to  me 
where  Virginia  has  managed  to  get  all  her  ideas  about  this 
work." 

"Virginia  knows  more  now  about  Arnold  Toynbee  and 
East  End  London  and  Institutional  Church  work  in  Amer- 
ica than  a  good  many  professional  slum  workers.  She  has 
been  spending  nearly  all  summer  in  getting  information." 
Rollin  was  beginning  to  feel  more  at  ease  as  they  talked 
over  this  coming  work  for  humanity.  It  was  safe  common 
ground. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  165 

"What  have  you  been  doing  all  summer?  I  have  not 
seen  much  of  j'ou,"  Rachel  suddenly  asked,  and  then  her 
face  warmed  with  its  quick  flush  of  tropical  color  as  if  she 
might  have  implied  too  much  interest  in  Rollin  or  too  much 
regret  at  not  seeing  him  oftener. 

"I  have  been  busy,"  replied  Rollin  briefly. 

"Tell  me  something  about  it,"  persisted  Rachel.  "You 
say  so  little.      Have  I  a  right  to  ask?" 

She  put  the  question  very  frankly,  turning  towards 
Rollin  in  real  interest. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  he  replied  with  a  grateful  smile.  "I 
am  not  so  certain  that  I  can  tell  you  much.  I  have  been 
trying  to  find  some  way  to  reach  the  men  I  once  knew  and 
win  them  into  more  useful  lives," 

He  stopped  suddenly  as  if  he  were  almost  afraid  to 
go  on.     Rachel  did  not  venture  to  suggest  anything. 

"I  have  been  a  member  of  the  same  company  to  which 
you  and  Virginia  belong,"  continued  Rollin,  beginning 
again.  "I  have  made  the  pledge  to  do  as  I  believe  Jesus 
would  do,  and  it  is  in  trying  to  answer  this  question  that  I 
have  been  doing  my  work." 

"That  is  what  I  do  not  understand.  Virginia  told  me 
about  the  other.  It  seems  wonderful  to  think  that  you 
are  trying  to  keep  that  pledge  with  us.  But  what  can  you 
do  with  the  club  men?" 

"Y'ou  have  asked  me  a  direct  question  and  I  shall  have 
to  answer  it  now,"  replied  Rollin  smiling  again.  "You  see 
I  asked  myself  after  that  night  at  the  tent,  you  remem- 
ber," (he  spoke  hurriedly  and  his  voice  trembled  a  little), 
"what  purpose  I  could  now  have  in  my  life  to  redeem  it, 
to  satisfy  my  thought  of  Christian  discipleship.  And  the 
more  I  thought  of  it.  the  more  I  was  driven  to  a  place 


166  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

where  I  knew  I  must  take  up  this  cross.  Did  you  ever  think 
that  of  all  the  neglected  beings  in  our  social  system  none 
are  quite  so  completely  left  alone  as  the  fast  young  men 
who  fill  the  clubs  and  waste  their  time  and  money  as  I 
used  to?  The  churches  look  after  the  poor,  miserable 
creatures  like  those  in  the  Rectangle,  they  make  some 
effort  to  reach  the  working  men,  they  have  a  large  con- 
stituency among  the  average  salary-earning  people,  they 
send  money  and  missionaries  to  the  foreign  heathen,  but 
the  fashionable,  dissipated  young  men  around  towm,  the 
club  men,  are  left  out  of  all  plans  for  reaching  and  Chris- 
tianizing. And  yet  no  class  of  people  needs  it  more.  I 
said  to  myself,  'I  know  these  men,  their  good  and  bad  qual- 
ities. I  have  been  one  of  them.  I  am  not  fitted  to  reach 
the  Kectangle  people.  I  do  not  know  how.  But  I  think 
I  could  possibly  reach  some  of  these  young  men  and  boys 
who  have  money  and  time  to  spend.'  So  that  is  what  I 
have  been  trying  to  do.  When  I  asked  as  you  did,  'What 
would  Jesus  do?'  that  was  my  answer.  It  has  been  also 
my  cross." 

Rollin's  voice  was  so  low  on  the  last  sentence  that 
Rachel  had  difficulty  in  hearing  him  above  the  noise  around 
them.  But  she  knew  what  he  had  said.  She  wanted  to 
ask  what  his  methods  were.  But  she  did  not  know  just 
how  to  ask  him.  Her  interest  in  his  plans  was  larger  than 
mere  curiosity.  Rollin  Page  was  so  different  now  from  the 
fashionable  young  man  who  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife, 
that  she  could  not  help  thinking  of  him  and  talking  with 
him  as  if  he  were  entirely  a  new  acquaintance. 

They  had  turned  off  the  avenue  and  were  going  up  the 
street  to  Rachel's  home.  It  was  the  same  street  where 
Rollin  had  asked  Rachel  why  she  could  not  love  him.    They 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DC'*"  IttT 

Avere  both  «tricken  by  a  sucltlen  shyness  as  they  went  on. 
Rachel  had  not  forgotten  that  day  and  Roliin  could  not. 
She  finally  broke  a  long  silence  by  asking  him  what  she  had 
not  found  words  for  before. 

"In  your  work  for  the  club  men,  with  your  old  acquaint 
ances,  what  sort  of  reception  do  they  give  you?  How  do 
3'ou  approach  them?    What  do  they  say?" 

Rolliu  was  silent  when  Rachel  spoke.  He  answered 
after  a  moment. 

"Oh,  it  depends  on  the  man.  A  good  many  of  them 
think  I  am  a  crank.  I  have  kept  my  membership  up  and 
am  in  good  standing  in  that  way.  I  try  to  be  wise  and  nor 
provoke  any  unnecessary  criticism.  But  you  would  be  sur- 
prised to  knovr  how  many  of  the  men  have  responded  to 
my  appeal.  I  eould  hardly  make  you  believe  that,  only  a 
few  nights  ago,  a  dozen  men  became  honestly  and  earnestly 
engaged  in  a  conversation  over  religious  questions.  I  have 
had  the  great  joy  of  seeing  som.e  of  the  men  give  up  bad 
habits  and  begin  a  new  life.  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  I 
keep  asking  it.  The  answer  comes  slowly,  for  I  am  feel- 
ing my  way  along.  One  thing  I  have  found  out.  The  men 
are  not  fighting  shy  of  me.  I  think  that  is  a  good  sign. 
Another  thing:  I  have  actually  interested  some  of  them 
in  the  Rectangle  work,  and  when  it  is  started  up  they  will 
give  something  to  help  make  it  more  powerful.  And  in 
addition  to  all  the  rest,  I  have  found  a  way  to  save  some  of 
the  young  fellows  from  going  to  the  bad  in  gambling." 

Roliin  spoke  with  enthusiasm.  His  face  was  trans- 
formed by  his  interest  in  the  subject  which  had  now 
become  a  part  of  his  real  life.  Rachel  again  noted  the 
strong,  manly,  healthful  tone  of  his  speech.  With  it  all 
she  knew  was  a  deep,  underlying  seriousness  which  felt 


168  IN  HIS   STEPS. 

the  burden  of  the  cross  even  while  carryhig  it  with  joy. 
The  next  time  'she  spoke  it  was  with  a  swift  feeling  of 
justice  clue  to  Rollin  and  his  new  life. 

"Do  you  remember  I  reproached  you  once  for  not  hav- 
ing any  purpose  worth  living  for?"  she  asked,  while  her 
beautiful  face  seemed  to  Rollin  more  beautiful  than  ever 
when  he  had  won  sufficient  self-control  to  look  up.  "I  want 
to  say,  I  feel  the  need  of  saying  in  justice  to  you  now,  that 
I  honor  you  for  j^our  courage  and  your  obedience  to  your 
promise.  The  life  you  are  living  now  is  a  very  noble 
one." 

Rollin  trembled.  His  agitation  was  greater  than  he 
could  control.  Rachel  could  not  help  seeing  it.  They 
walked  along  in  silence.  At  last  Rollin  said,  "I  thank  you. 
It  has  been  more  than  I  can  tell  to  hear  you  say  that."  He 
looked  into  her  face  for  one  moment.  She  read  his  love 
for  her  in  that  look.      But  he  did  not  speak. 

When  they  separated,  Rachel  went  into  the  house  and, 
sitting  down  in  her  room,  she  put  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  said  to  herself,  "I  am  beginning  to  know  what  it 
means  to  be  loved  by  a  noble  man.  I  shall  love  Rollin 
Page  after  all.  What  am  I  saying!  Rachel  Winslow,  have 
you  forgotten—" 

She  rose  and  walked  back  and  forth.  She  was  deeply 
moved.  Nevertheless,  it  was  evident  to  herself  that  her 
emotion  Avas  not  that  of  regret  or  sorrow.  Somehow  a  glad 
new  joy  had  come  to  her.  She  had  entered  another  circle 
of  experience,  and  later  in  the  day  she  rejoiced  with  a  very 
strong  and  sincere  gladness  that  her  Christian  discipleship 
found  room  for  this  crisis  in  her  feeling.  It  was  indeed  a 
part  of  it,  for  if  she  were  beginning  to  love  Rollin  Page, 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  109 

it  was  the  Cbristiau  man  who  had  won  her  heart.  The 
other  never  would  have  moved  her  to  this  great  change. 

And  RoUin,  as  he  went  back,  treasured  a  hope  that  had 
been  a  stranger  to  him  since  Rachel  had  said  No  that  day. 
In  that  hope  he  went  on  with  his  work  as  the  days  sped 
on,  and  at  no  time  was  he  more  successful  in  reaching  and 
saving  his  old  acquaintances  than  in  the « time  that  fol- 
low^ed  that  chance  meeting  with  Rachel  Winslow. 

The  summer  liad  gone  and  Raymond  was  once  more 
facing  the  rigor  of  her  winter  season.  Virginia  had  been 
able  to  accomplish  a  part  of  her  plan  for  "capturing  the 
Rectangle,"  as  she  called  it.  But  the  building  of  houses 
in  the  field,  the  transforming  of  its  bleak,  bare  aspect  into 
an  attractive  park,  all  of  which  was  included  in  her  plan, 
was  a  work  too  large  to  be  completed  that  fall  after  she 
had  secured  the  property.  But  a  million  dollars  in  the 
hands  of  a  person  who  really  wants  to  do  with  it  as  Jesus 
would,  ought  to  accomplish  wonders  for  humanity  in  a 
short  time,  and  Henry  MaxAvell,  going  over  to  the  scene  of 
the  new  w^ork  one  day  after  a  noon  hour  with  the  shop 
men,  was  amazed  to  see  how  much  had  been  done  out- 
wardly. 

Yet  he  walked  home  thoughtfully,  and  on  his  way  he 
could  not  avoid  the  question  of  the  continual  problem  thrust 
into  his  notice  bj*  the  saloon.  How  much  had  been  done 
for  the  Rectangle  after  all?  Even  counting  in  Virginia's 
and  Rachel's  work  and  Mr.  Gray's,  where  had  it  actually 
counted  in  any  visible  quantity?  Of  course,  he  said  to 
himself  that  the  redemptive  work  begun  and  carried  on  by 
the  Holy  Spirit  in  His  wonderful  displays  of  power  in  the 
First  Church  and  in  the  tent  meetings  had  had  its  effect  on 
the  life  of  Raymond.    But  as  he  walked  past  saloon  after 


170  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

saloon  and  noted  the  crowds  going  in  and  coming  out  of 
tliem,  as  he  saw  the  wretched  dens,  as  many  as  ever  appar- 
ently, as  he  caught  the  brutality  and  squalor  and  open 
misery  and  degradation  on  countless  faces  of  men  and 
women  and  children,  he  sickened  at  the  sight.  He  found 
himself  asking,  how  much  cleansing  could  even  a  million 
dollars  poured  into  this  cesspool  accomplish?  Was  not  the 
living  source  of  nearly  all  the  human  misery  they  sought 
to  relieve  untouched,  as  long  as  these  saloons  did  their 
deadly  but  legitimate  work?  What  could  even  such  unself- 
ish Christian  discipleship  as  Virginia's  and  Rachel's  do  to 
lessen  the  stream  of  vice,  so  long  as  the  great  spring  of 
vice  and  crime  flowed  as  deep  and  strong  as  ever?  Was 
it  not  a  practical  waste  of  beautiful  lives  for  these  young 
women  to  throw  themselves  into  this  earthly  hell,  when  for 
every  soul  rescued  by  their  sacrifice  the  saloon  made  two 
more  that  needed  rescue? 

He  could  not  escape  the  question.  It  was  the  same  that 
Virginia  had  put  to  Rachel  in  her  statement  that,  in  her 
opinion,  nothing  really  would  ever  be  done  until  the  saloon 
was  taken  out  of  the  Rectangle.  Henry  Maxwell  went 
back  to  his  parish  work  that  afternoon  with  added  convic- 
tions on  the  license  business. 

But  if  the  saloon  were  a  factor  in  the  problem  of  the 
life  of  Raymond,  no  less  was  the  First  Church  and  its  lit- 
tle company  of  disciples  who  had  pledged  themselves  to  do 
as  Jesus  Avould  do.  Henry  MaxAvell.  standing  at  the  very 
center  of  the  movement,  was  not  in  a  position  to  judge  of 
its  povror  as  some  one  from  the  outside  might  have  done. 
lint  Raymond  itself  felt  the  touch  of  this  new  discipleship 
and  was  changed  in  very  many  ways,  not  knowing  all  th( 
reasons  for  the  change. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  171 

The  winter  had  gone  and  the  year  was  ended,  the 
j-ear  which  Henry  Maxwell  had  fixed  as  the  time  during 
which  the  pledge  should  be  kept  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do. 
Sunday,  the  anniversary  of  that  one  a  year  ago,  was  in 
many  ways  the  most  remarkable  day  the  First  Church  ever 
knew.  It  was  more  Important  than  the  disciples  in  tho 
First  Church  realized.  The  year  had  made  history  so  fast 
and  so  serious  that  the  people  were  not  yet  able  to  grasp 
its  significance.  And  the  day  itself  which  marked  the  com- 
pletion of  a  whole  year  of  such  discipleship  was  character- 
ized by  such  revelations  and  confessions  that  the  immediate 
actors  in  the  events  themselves  could  not  understand  the 
value  of  what  had  been  done,  or  tne  relation  of  their  trial 
to  the  rest  of  the  churches  and  cities  in  the  country. 

It  happened  that  the  week  before  that  anniversary  Sun- 
day, the  Rev.  Calvin  Bruce,  D.D.,  of  the  Nazareth  Avenue 
Church,  Chicago,  was  in  Raymond,  where  he  had  come  on 
a  visit  to  some  old  friends  and  incidentally  to  see  his  old 
seminary  classmate,  Henry  Maxwell.  He  was  present  at 
the  First  Church  and  was  an  exceedingly  attentive  and 
interested  spectator.  His  account  of  events  in  Raymond 
and  especially  of  that  Sunday  may  throw  more  light  ou 
the  entire  situation  than  any  description  or  record  from 
other  sources.  Dr.  Bruce's  statement  is  therefore  here 
given. 

[Letter  from  Rev.  Calvin  Bruce,  D.D.,  of  the  Nazareth 
Avenue  Church,  Chicago,  to  Rev.  Philip  S.  Caxton,  D.D., 
New  York  City.] 
•*My  Dear  Caxton: 

"It  is  late  Sunday  night,  but  I  am  so  intensely  awake 
and  so  overflowing  with  what  I  have  seen  and  heard  that 
I  feel  driren  to  write  yoXi  now  some  account  of  the  situa- 


172  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

tion  in  Raymond,  as  I  have  been  studying  it  and  as  it  has 
apparently  come  to  a  climax  to-day.  So  this  is  my  only 
excuse  for  writing  so  extended  a  letter  at  this  time. 

"You  remember  Henry  Maxwell  in  the  Seminary.  I 
think  you  said,  the  last  time  I  visited  you  in  New  York,  that 
you  had  not  seen  him  since  we  graduated.  He  was  a 
refined,  scholarly  fellow,  you  remember,  and  when  he  was 
called  to  the  First  Church  of  Raymond  within  a  year  after 
leaving  the  Seminary,  I  said  to  my  wife,  'Raymond  has 
made  a  good  choice.  Maxwell  will  satisfy  them  as  a 
sermonizer.'  He  has  been  here  eleven  years,  and  I  under- 
stand that  up  to  a  year  ago  he  had  gone  on  In  the  regular 
course  of  the  ministry,  giving  good  satisfaction  and  draw- 
ing a  good  congregation  to  his  morning  preaching  service. 
His  church  was  counted  the  largest,  most  wealthy  church 
in  Raymond.  All  the  best  people  attended  it,  and  most  of 
them  belonged.  The  quartette  choir  was  famous  for  its 
music,  especially  for  its  soprano.  Miss  Winslow,  of  whom  I 
shall  have  more  to  say;  and  on  the  whole,  as  I  understand 
the  facts,  Maxwell  was  in  a  comfortable  berth,  with  a  very 
good  salary,  pleasant  surroundings,  not  a  very  exacting 
parish  of  refined,  rich,  respectable  people,  such  a  church 
and  parish  as  nearly  all  the  young  men  in  the  Seminary 
in  our  time  looked  forward  to  as  very  desirable. 

"But  a  year  ago  to-day,  Maxwell  came  into  his  church 
on  Sunday  morning,  and  at  the  close  of  his  service  made 
the  astounding  proposition  that  the  members  of  his  church 
volunteer  for  a  year  not  to  do  anything  without  first  ask- 
ing the  question,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  and,  after  answer- 
ing it,  to  do  what  in  their  honest  judgment  He  would  do, 
regardless  of  what  the  result  might  be  to  them. 

"The  effect  of  this  proposition,  as  it  has  been  met  and 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  173 

obej-ed  by  a  number  of  the  members  of  the  First  Church 
of  Raj^mond,  has  been  so  remarkable,  that,  as  you  know, 
the  attention  of  the  whole  country  has  been  directed  to  the 
movement.  I  call  it  a  'movement'  because,  from  the  action 
taken  to-day,  it  seems  probable  that  what  has  been  tried 
here  in  the  First  Church  in  Raymond  will  reach  out  into  the 
other  churches  and  cause  a  revolution  in  church  methods, 
but  more  especially  in  a  new  definition  of  Christian  disciple 
ship. 

"In  the  first  place.  Maxwell  tells  me  he  was  aston- 
ished at  the  response  made  to  his  proposition.  Some  of  the 
most  prominent  members  in  the  church  made  the  promise 
to  do  as  Jesus  would.  Among  them  were  Edward  Norman, 
the  editor  of  the  daily  "News,"  which  has  made  such  a  sen- 
sation in  the  newspaper  world;  Milton  Wright,  one  of  the 
leading  merchants  in  Raymond;  Alexander  Powers,  whose 
action  in  the  matter  of  the  railroads  against  the  interstate 
commerce  laws  made  such  a  stir  about  a  year  ago;  Miss 
Page,  one  of  Raymond's  leading  society  heiresses,  who  has 
lately  dedicated  her  entire  fortune,  as  I  understand,  to  the 
Christian  daily  paper  and  the  work  of  reform  in  the  slum 
district  known  as  the  Rectangle;  and  Miss  Winslow,  whose 
reputation  as  a  singer  is  now  national,  but  who  in  obedi- 
ence to  what  she  has  decided  to  be  Jesus'  probable  action, 
has  devoted  her  talent  to  volunteer  work  among  the  girls 
and  women  who  make  up  a  large  part  of  the  city's  worst 
and  most  abandoned  population. 

"In  addition  to  these  well-known  people  has  been  a 
gradually  increasing  number  of  Christians  from  the  First 
Church,  and  lately  from  other  churches  in  Raymond.  A 
large  proportion  of  these  volunteers  who  pledge  themselves 
to  do  as  Jesus  would  comes  from  the  Endeavor  Societies. 


174  IN    HIS   STEPS. 

The  youug  people  say  that  they  have  already  embodied  in 
then-  society  pledge  the  same  principle  in  the  words,  "I 
promise  Him  that  I  will  strive  to  do  whatever  He  would 
have  me  do."  This  is  not  exactly  what  is  included  in 
Maxwell's  proposition,  which  is  that  the  disciples  shall  try 
to  do  what  Jesus  would  probably  do  in  the  disciple's  place. 
But  the  result  of  an  honest  obedience  to  either  pledge,  he 
claims,  will  be  practically  the  same  ,  and  he  is  not  surprised 
that  the  largest  numbers  have  joined  the  new  discipleship 
from  the  Endeavor  Society. 

"I  am  sure  the  first  question  you  will  ask  is,  'What  has 
been  the  result  of  this  attempt?  What  has  it  accomplished, 
or  how  has  it  changed  in  any  way  the  regular  course  of  the 
church  or  the  community?' 

"You  already  know  something,  from  reports  of  Ray- 
mond that  have  gone  over  the  country,  what  the  results 
have  been.  But  one  needs  to  come  here  and  learn  some- 
thing of  the  changes  in  individual  lives,  and  especially  the 
change  in  the  church  life,  to  realize  all  that  is  meant  by 
this  following  of  Jesus'  steps  so  literally.  To  tell  all  that, 
would  be  to  write  a  long  story  or  series  of  stories.  I  am  not 
in  a  position  to  do  that,  but  I  can  give  you  some  idea,  per- 
haps, of  what  has  happened  here  from  what  has  been 
told  me  by  my  friends  and  Henry  Maxwell  himself. 

"The  result  of  the  pledge  upon  the  First  Church  has 
been  twofold.  It  has  brought  about  a  spirit  of  Christian 
fellowship  which  Maxwell  tells  me  never  before  existed, 
and  which  now  impresses  him  as  being  very  nearly  what 
the  Christian  fellowship  of  the  apostolic  churches  must 
have  been;  and  it  has  divided  the  church  into  two  distinct 
groups  of  members.  Those  who  have  not  taken  the  pledge 
regard  the  others  as  foolishly  literal  in  their  attempts  to 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  175 

imitate  the  example  of  Jesus.  Some  of  them  have  drawn 
out  of  the  church  and  no  longer  attend,  or  they  have 
removed  their  membership  entirely  to  other  churches.  Some 
are  an  internal  element  of  strife,  and  I  heard  rumors  of  an 
attempt  on  their  part  to  force  Maxwell's  resignation.  I  do 
not  know  that  this  element  is  very  strong  in  the  church. 
It  has  been  held  in  check  by  a  wonderful  continuance  of 
spiritual  power,  which  dates  from  the  first  Sunday  the 
pledge  was  taken  a  year  ago,  and  also  by  the  fact  that  so 
many  of  the  most  prominent  members  have  been  identi- 
fied with  the  movement. 

"The  effect  on  Henry  Maxwell  is  very  marked.  I  heard 
him  preach  at  our  State  Association  four  years  ago.  Ho 
impressed  me  at  the  time  as  having  considerable  power 
in  dramatic  delivery,  of  vrhich  he  himself  was  somewhat 
conscious.  His  sermon  was  well  written  and  abounded 
in  what  the  Seminary  students  used  to  call  'fine  passages.' 
The  effect  of  it  was  Avhat  the  average  congregation  would 
call  pleasing.  This  morning  I  heard  Maxwell  preach  again 
for  the  first  time  since  then.  I  shall  speak  of  that  far- 
ther on.  He  is  not  the  same  man.  He  gives  me  the 
impression  of  one  who  has  passed  through  a  crisis  of  revo- 
lution. He  tells  me  this  revolution  is  simply  a  new  defini- 
tion of  Christian  discipleship.  He  certainly  has  changed 
many  of  his  old  views.  His  attitude  on  the  saloon  ques- 
tion is  radically  opposite  to  the  one  he  entertained  a  year 
ago.  And  in  his  entire  thought  of  his  ministry,  his  pul- 
pit and  parish  work,  I  find  he  has  made  a  complete  change. 
So  far  as  I  can  understand,  the  idea  that  is  moving  him 
on  now  is  the  idea  that  the  Christianity  of  our  times  must 
represent  a  more  literal  imitation  of  Jesus,  and  especially 
in  the  element  of  suffering.     He  quoted  to  me  in  the  course 


176  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

of  our  conversation  several  times  the  verse  from  Peter: 
"For  hereunto  were  ye  called,  because  Christ  also  suffered 
for  you,  leaving  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  follow  His 
steps;'  and  he  seems  filled  with  the  conviction  that  what 
our  churches  need  to-day  more  than  anything  else  is  this 
factor  of  suffering  for  Jesus  in  some  form. 

"I  do  not  linow  as  I  agree  with  him  altogether;  but, 
my  dear  Caxton,  it  is  certainly  astonishing  to  note  the 
results  of  this  idea  as  they  have  impressed  themselves  upon 
this  city  and  this  church. 

"You  ask  how  about  the  results  on  the  individuals 
who  have  made  the  pledge  and  honestly  tried  to  be  true 
to  it.  Those  results  are,  as  I  have  said,  a  part  of  individual 
history  and  cannot  be  told  in  detail.  Some  of  them  I  can 
give  you  so  that  you  may  see  that  this  form  of  discipleship 
is  not  merely  sentiment  or  fine  posing  for  effect. 

"For  instance,  take  the  case  of  Alexander  Powers  who 
was  Superintendent  of  the.  Machine  Shops  of  the  L.  and 
T.  R.  R.  here.  When  he  acted  upon  the  evidence  that 
incriminated  the  road,  he  lost  his  position  and,  more  than 
that,  I  learn  from  my  friends  here,  his  family  and  social 
relations  have  become  so  changed  that  the  family  no 
longer  appear  in  public.  They  have  dropped  out  of  the 
social  circle  where  once  they  were  so  prominent.  By  the 
Avay,  Caxton,  I  understand  in  this  connection  that  the 
Commission,  for  one  reason  and  another,  postponed  action 
on  this  case,  and  it  is  now  rumored  that  the  L.  and  T.  R.  R. 
will  pass  into  a  receiver's  hands  very  soon.  The  President 
of  the  road,  who,  according  to  the  evidence  submitted  by 
Powers,  was  the  principal  offender,  has  resigned,  and  com- 
plications which  have  arisen  since  point  to  the  receivership. 
Meanwhile,  the  Superintendent  has  gone  back  to  his  old 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  177 

work  as  a  telegraph  operator.  I  met  him  at  the  church 
yesterday.  He  impressed  me  as  a  man  who  had,  like  Max- 
well, gone  through  a  crisis  in  character.  I  could  not  help 
thinking  of  him  as  being  good  material  for  the  church  of 
the  first  century  when  the  disciples  had  all  things  in  com- 
mon. 

"Or  take  the  case  of  Mr.  Norman,  editor  of  the  'Daily 
News.'  He  risked  his  entire  fortune  in  obedience  to  what 
he  believed  was  Jesus'  probable  action  and  revolutionized 
his  entire  conduct  of  the  paper  at  the  risk  of  a  failure.  I 
send  you  a  copy  of  yesterday's  paper.  I  want  you  to  read 
it  carefully.  To  my  mind  it  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
and  remarkable  papers  ever  printed  in  the  United  States. 
It  is  open  to  criticism,  but  what  could  any  mere  man 
attempt  in  this  line  that  would  be  free  from  criticism? 
Take  it  all  in  all,  it  is  so  far  above  the  ordinary  conception 
of  a  daily  paper  that  I  am  amazed  at  the  result.  He  tells 
me  that  the  paper  is  beginning  to  be  read  more  and  more 
by  the  Christian  people  of  the  city.  He  is  very  confident 
of  its  final  success. 

"Read  his  editorial  on  the  money  question,  also  the  one 
on  the  coming  election  in  Raymond,  when  the  question  of 
license  will  again  be  an  issue.  Both  articles  are  of  the 
best  from  his  point  of  view.  He  says  he  never  begins  an 
editorial  or,  in  fact,  any  part  of  his  newspaper  work,  witli- 
out  first  asking,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  The  result  is  cer- 
tainly apparent. 

"Then,  there  is  Milton  "Wright,  the  merchant.  He  has, 
I  am  told,  so  revolutionized  his  business  that  no  man  is 
more  beloved  to-day  in  Raymond.  His  own  clerks  and 
employes  have  affection  for  him  that  is  very  touching.  Dur- 
ing the  winter,  while  he  was  \y\ug  dangerously  ill  at  his 


178  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

home,  scores  of  clerks  volunteered  to  watch  or  help  in  any 
possible  way,  and  his  return  to  his  store  was  greeted  with 
marked  demonstrations.  All  this  has  been  brought  about 
by  the  element  of  personal  love  introduced  into  the  busi- 
ness. This  love  is  not  mere  words,  but  the  business  itself 
is  carried  on  under  a  system  of  co-operation  that  is  not  a 
patronizing  recognition  of  inferiors  but  a  real  sharing  in 
the  entire  business.  Other  men  on  the  street  look  upon 
Milton  Wright  as  odd.  It  is  a  fact,  how^ever,  that  while  he 
has  lost  heavily  in  some  directions,  he  has  increased  his 
business  and  is  today  respected  and  honored  as  one  of  the 
best  and  most  successful  merchants  in  Raymond. 

"And  there  is  Miss  Winslow^  She  has  chosen  to  give 
her  great  talent  to  the  poor  and  wretched  of  the  city.  Her 
plans  include  a  Musical  Institute  w^here  choruses  and 
classes  in  vocal  music  shall  be  a  feature.  She  is  enthusias- 
tic over  her  life  work.  In  connection  with  her  friend  Miss 
Page,  she  has  planned  a  course  in  music  which,  if  carried 
out,  will  certainly  do  much  to  lift  up  the  lives  of  the  people 
dowm  there.  I  am  not  too  old,  my  dear  Caxton,  to  be 
interested  in  the  romantic  side  of  much  that  has  also  been 
tragic  here  in  Eaymond,  and  I  must  tell  you  that  it  is  well 
understood  here  that  Miss  Winslow  expects  to  be  married 
this  spring  to  a  brother  of  Miss  Page,  who  was  once  a 
society  leader  and  club  man,  and  who  w^as  converted  in  a 
tent  w^here  his  wife  that-is-to-be  took  an  active  part  in  the 
service.  I  don't  know  all  the  details  of  this  little  romance, 
but  I  can  imagine  there  is  a  little  story  wrapped  up  in  it, 
and  it  would  be  interesting  reading  if  we  only  knev/  it  all. 

"These  are  only  a  few^  illustrations  of  results  in  indi- 
vidual lives  owing  to  obedience  to  the  pledge.  I  meant  to 
have  spoken  of  President  Marsh  of  Lincoln  College.  He  is  a 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  179 

graduate  of  my  alma  mater,  and  I  knew  him  slightly  when 
I  was  iu  the  senior  year.  He  has  taken  an  active  part  in 
the  recent  municipal  agitation,  and  his  influence  in  the  city 
is  regarded  as  a  very  large  factor  in  the  coming  election. 
He  impressed  me,  as  did  all  the  other  disciples  in  this  move- 
ment, as  having  fought  out  some  hard  questions  and  as 
having  taken  up  some  real  burdens  that  have  caused,  and 
still  do  cause,  that  suffering  of  which  Henry  Maxwell 
speaks,  a  suffering  that  does  not  eliminate,  but  does  appear 
to  intensify  a  positive  and  practical  joy. 

"But  I  am  prolonging  this  letter,  possibly  to  your  weari- 
ness. I  am  unable  to  avoid  the  feeling  of  fascination 
Avhich  my  entire  stay  here  has  increased.  I  want  to  tell 
you  something  of  the  meeting  in  the  First  Church  to-day. 

"As  I  said,  I  heard  Maxwell  preach.  At  his  earnest 
request  I  had  preached  for  him  the  Sunday  before,  and  this 
was  the  first  time  I  had  heard  him  since  the  Association 
four  years  ago.  His  sermon  this  morning  was  as  different 
from  his  sermon  then  as  if  it  had  been  thought  out  and 
preached  by  some  one  living  on  another  planet.  I  was  pro- 
foundly touched.  I  believe  I  actually  shed  tears  once. 
Others  in  the  congregation  were  moved  like  myself.  His 
text  was,  'What  is  that  to  thee?  Follow  thou  me.'  And  it 
was  a  most  unusually  impressive  appeal  to  the  Christians  of 
Raymond  to  obey  Jesus'  teachings  and  follow  in  His  steps 
regardless  of  what  others  might  do.  I  cannot  give  you  even 
the  plan  of  the  sermon.  It  Avould  take  too  long.  At  the 
close  of  the  service,  there  was  the  usual  after-meeting  that 
has  become  a  regular  feature  of  the  First  Church.  Into 
this  meeting  have  come  all  those  who  made  the  pledge  to  do 
as  Jesus  would  do,  and  the  time  is  spent  in  mutual  fellow- 
ship, confession,  questions  as  to  what  Jesus  would  do  in 


180  [N  HIS  STEPS. 

special  cases,  and  prayer  that  the  one  great  guide  of  every 
disciple's  conduct  may  be  the  Holy  Spirit. 

"Maxwell  asked  me  to  come  into  this  meeting.  Noth- 
ing in  all.  my  ministerial  life,  Caxton,  has  so  moved  me  as 
that  meeting.  I  never  felt  the  Spirit's  presence  so  power- 
fully. It  was  a  meeting  of  reminiscences  and  of  the  most 
loving  fellowship.  I  was  irresistibly  driven  in  thought 
back  to  the  first  years  of  Christianity.  There  was  some- 
thing about  all  this  that  was  apostolic  in  its  simplicity  and 
Christ  imitation. 

"I  asked  questions.  One  that  seemed  to  arouse  more 
interest  than  any  other  was  in  regard  to  the  extent  of  the 
Christian  disciple's  sacrifice  of  personal  property.  Henry 
Maxwell  tells  me  that,  so  far,  no  one  has  interpreted  the 
spirit  of  Jesus  in  such  a  way  as  to  abandon  his  earthly  pos- 
sessions, give  away  all  his  wealth,  or  in  any  literal  way 
imitate  the  Christians  of  the  order,  for  example,  of  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi.  It  was  the  unanimous  consent,  how- 
ever, that  if  any  disciple  should  feel  that  Jesus  in  his  own 
particular  case  would  do  that,  there  could  be  only  one 
answer  to  the  question.  Maxwell  frankly  admitted  that 
he  was  still,  to  a  certain  degree,  uncertain  as  to  Jesus' 
probable  action  when  it  came  to  the  details  of  household 
living,  the  possession  of  wealth,  the  holding  of  certain  luxu- 
ries. It  is  however,  very  evident,  that  very  many  of  these 
disciples  have  repeatedly  carried  their  obedience  to  Jesus 
to  the  extreme  limit,  regardless  of  financial  loss.  There  is 
no  lack  of  courage  or  consistency  at  this  point.  It  is  also 
true  that  some  of  the  business  men  who  took  the  pledge 
have  lost  great  sums  of  money  in  this  imitation  of  Jesus, 
and  very  many  have,  like  Alexander  Powers,  lost  valuable 
positions  owing  to  the  impossibility  of  doing  what  they  had 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  181 

been  accustomed  to  do  and  at  the  same  time  doing  what 
they  felt  Jesus  would  do  in  the  same  place.  In  connection 
W'ith  these  cases  it  is  pleasant  to  record  the  fact  that  many 
who  have  suffered  in  this  way  have  at  once  been  helped 
tiuancially  by  those  who  still  have  means.  In  this  respect 
I  think  it  is  true  that  these  disciples  have  all  things  in  com- 
mon. Certainly  such  scenes  as  I  witnessed  at  the  First 
Church  at  that  after-service  this  morning  I  never  saw  in 
my  church  or  any  other.  I  never  dreamed  that  such  Chris- 
tian fellowship  could  exist  in  this  age  of  the  world.  I  am 
almost  incredulous  as  to  the  witness  of  my  own  senses. 
I  still  seem  to  be  asking  myself  if  this  is  the  close  of  the 
nineteenth  century  in  America. 

"But  now,  dear  friend,  I  come  to  the  real  cause  of  the 
letter,  the  real  heart  of  the  whole  question  as  the  First 
Church  of  Raymond  has  forced  it  upon  me.  Before  the 
meeting  closed  to-day,  steps  were  taken  to  secure  the  co-op- 
eration of  all  other  Christian  disciples  in  this  country.  I 
think  Henry  Maxwell  took  this  step  after  long  deliberation. 
He  said  as  much  to  me  one  day  when  I  called  upon  him 
and  we  w'ere  discussing  the  effect  of  this  movement  upon 
the  church  in  general. 

'•  'Why,'  he  said,  'suppose  that  the  church  membership 
px'uerally  in  this  country  made  this  pledge  and  lived  up  to 
it!  What  a  revolution  it  would  cause  in  Christendom!  But 
why  not?  Is  it  any  more  than  the  disciple  ought  to  do? 
Has  he  followed  Jesus  unless  he  is  willing  to  do  this?  Is 
the  test  of  discipleship  any  less  to-day  than  it  was  in  .Tesus' 
time?' 

"I  do  not  know  all  that  preceded  or  followed  his 
thought  of  what  ought  to  be  done  outside  of  Raymond,  but 
the  idea  crystalized  to-day  in  a  plan  to  secure  the  fellow- 


182  IN  HIS   STEPS. 

ship  of  all  the  Christians  in  America.  The  churches 
through  their  pastors  will  be  asked  to  form  disciple  gather- 
ings like  the  one  in  the  First  Church.  Volunteers  will  be 
called  for  in  the  great  body  of  church  members  in  the 
United  States  who  will  promise  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do. 
Maxwell  spoke  particularly  of  the  result  of  such  general 
action  on  the  saloon  question.  He  is  terribly  in  earnest 
over  this.  He  told  me  that  there  Avas  no  question  in  his 
mind  that  the  saloon  would  be  beaten  in  Raymond  at  the 
election  now  near  at  hand.  If  so,  they  could  go  on  with 
some  courage  to  do  the  redemptive  work  begun  by  the* 
evangelist  and  now  taken  up  by  the  disciples  in  his  own 
church.  If  the  saloon  triumphs  again,  there  will  be  a 
terrible  and,  as  he  thinks,  unnecessary  waste  of  Christian 
sacrifice.  But  however  we  differ  on  that  point,  he  has 
convinced  his  church  that  the  time  has  come  for  a  fellow- 
ship with  other  Christians.  Surely,  if  the  First  Church 
could  work  such  changes  in  society  and  its  surroundings, 
the  church  in  general  if  combining  such  fellowship,  not 
of  creed  but  of  conduct,  ought  to  stir  the  entire  nation  to 
a  higher  life  and  a  new  conception  of  Christian  following. 
"This  is  a  grand  idea,  Caxton,  but  right  here  is  where 
I  find  myself  hesitating.  1  do  not  deny  that  the  Chris- 
tian disciple  ought  to  follow  Christ's  steps  as  closely  as 
these  here  in  Raymond  have  tried  to  do.  But  I  cannot 
avoid  asking  what  the  result  will  be  if  I  ask  my  church  in 
Chicago  to  do  it.  I  am  writing  this  after  feeling  the  sol- 
emn profound  touch  of  the  Spirit's  presence,  and  I  confess 
to  you,  old  friend,  that  I  cannot  call  up  in  my  church  a 
dozen  prominent  business  or  professional  men  who  would 
make  this  trial  at  the  risk  of  all  that  they  hold  dear.  Can 
you  do  any  better  in  your  church?    What  are  we  to  say? 


**WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  183 

That  the  church  would  not  respond  to  the  call,  'Come  and 
suffer?'  The  actual  results  of  the  pledge  as  obeyed  here 
in  Raymond  are  enough  to  make  any  pastor  tremble  and, 
at  the  same  time,  long  with  yearning  that  they  might  occur 
in  his  own  parish.  Certainly,  never  have  I  seen  a  church 
so  signallj'  blessed  by  the  Spirit  as  this  one.  But— am  I 
myself  readj'  to  take  this  pledge?  I  ask  the  question  hon- 
estly and  I  dread  to  face  an  honest  answer.  I  know  well 
enough  that  I  would  have  to  change  very  much  in  my  life 
if  I  undertook  to  folloAv  His  steps  so  closely.  I  have  called 
myself  a  Christian  for  many  years.  For  the  past  ten  years 
I  have  enjoyed  a  life  that  has  comparatively  little  suffering 
in  it.  I  am,  honestly  I  say  it,  living  at  a  long  distance 
from  municipal  problems  and  the  life  of  the  poor, .  the 
degraded  and  the  abandoned.  What  would  the  obedience 
to  this  pledge  demand  of  me?  I  hesitate  to  answer.  My 
church  is  wealthy,  full  of  well-to-do,  satisfied  people.  The 
standard  of  their  discipleship  ,is,  I  am  aware,  not  of  a 
nature  to  respond  to  the  call  to  suffering  or  personal  loss. 
I  say,  'I  am  aware.'  I  may  be  mistaken.  I  may  have  erred 
in  not  stirring  their  deeper  life.  Caxton,  my  friend,  I  have 
spoken  my  inmost  thought  to  you.  Shall  I  go  back  to  my 
people  next  Sunday  and  stand  up  before  them  in  my  large 
city  church  and  say,  'Let  us  follow  Jesus  closer.  Let  us 
walk  in  His  steps  where  it  will  cost  us  something  more 
than  it  is  costing  us  now.  Let  us  pledge  not  to  do  anything 
without  first  asking,  "What  would  Jesus  do?"  '  If  I  should 
go  before  them  with  that  message,  it  would  be  a  strange  and 
startling  one  to  them.  But  why?  Are  we  not  really  to  fol- 
low Him  all  the  way?  What  is  it  to  be  a  follower  of  Jesus? 
What  does  it  mean  to  imitate  Him?  What  does  it  mean  to 
walk  in  His  steps?" 


184  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

The  Rev.  Calvin  Bruce,  D.D.,  of  the  Nazareth  Avenue 
Church,  Chicago,  let  his  pen  fall  on  the  paper.  He  had 
come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways,  and  his  question,  he  felt 
sure,  was  the  question  of  many  and  many  a  man  in  the 
ministry  and  in  the  church.  He  went  to  his  window  and 
opened  it.  He  was  oppressed  with  the  weight  of  his  con- 
victions and  he  felt  almost  suffocated  with  the  air  of  the 
room.  He  wanted  to  see  the  stars  and  feel  the  breath  of 
the  world. 

The  night  was  very  still.  The  clock  in  the  First  Church 
was  strilving  midnight.  As  it  finished,  a  clear  strong 
voice  down  in  the  direction  of  the  Rectangle  came  floating 
up  to  him  as  if  borne  on  radiant  pinions. 

"Must  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone, 

And  all  the  world  go  free? 
No!     There's  a  cross  for  every  one, 

And  there's  a  cross  for  me." 

It  was  the  voice  of  one  of  Gray's  old  converts,  a  night 
watchman  at  the  packing  houses,  who  sometimes  solaced 
his  lonesome  hours  by  a  verse  or  two  from  some  familiar 
hymn. 

The  Rev.  Calvin  Bruce  turned  away  from  the  window 
and,  after  a  little  hesitation,  he  kneeled  down.  "What 
would  Jesus  do?  What  would  Jesus  do?"  Never  had  he 
yielded  himself  so  completely  to  the  Spirit's  searching 
revealing  of  Jesus.  He  was  on  his  knees  a  long  time. 
He  retired  and  slept  fitfully  with  many  awakenings.  He 
rose  before  it  was  clear  dawn,  and  threw  open  his  window 
again.  As  the  light  in  the  east  grew  stronger,  he  repeated 
to  himself,  "What  would  Jesus  do?  What  would  He  do? 
Shall  I  follow  His  steps?" 

The  sun  rose  and  flooded  the  city  with  its  power.    When 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  185 

shall  the  dawn  of  a  uew  discipleshii)  usher  in  the  conquer- 
ing triumph  of  a  closer  walli  with  Jesus?  When  shall 
Christendom  tread  more  closely  the  path  He  made? 

"It  is  the  way  the  Master  trod, 
Shall  not  the  servant  tread  it  still?" 

With  this  question  throbbing  through  his  whole  being, 
the  Rev.  Calvin  Bruce  went  back  to  Chicago,  and  the  great 
crisis  of  his  Christian  life  in  the  ministry  suddenly  broke 
irresistibly  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  IX* 

"Master,  I  will  follow  thee  whithersoever  thou  goest/* 

The  Saturday  matinee  at  the  Auditorium  in  Chicago 
was  just  over;  and  the  usual  crowd  was  struggling  to  get 
to  its  carriage  before  any  one  else.  The  Auditorium  attend- 
ant was  shouting  out  the  number  of  different  carriages 
and  the  carriage  doors  Avere  slamming  as  the  horses  were 
driven  rapidly  to  the  curb,  held  there  impatient  by  the 
drivers  who  had  shivered  long  in  the  raw  east  wind,  and 
then  let  go  to  plunge  for  a  few  minutes  into  the  river  of 
vehicles  that  tossed  under  the  elevated  railway  and  finally 
went  whirling  off  up  the  avenue. 

"Now,  then,  624!"  shouted  the  Auditorium  attendant; 
•*624!"  he  repeated,  and  there  dashed  up  to  the  curb  a  splen- 
did span  of  black  horses  attached  to  a  carriage  having  the 
monogram,  "C.  R.  S."  in  gilt  letters  on  the  panel  of  the 
door. 

Two  girls  stepped  out  of  the  crowd  towards  the  car- 
riage. The  older  one  had  entered  and  taken  her  seat, 
and  the  attendant  was  still  holding  the  door  open  for  the 
younger  who  stood  hesitating  on  the  curb. 

"Come,  Felicia!  What  are  you  waiting  for!  I  shall 
freeze  to  death!"  called  the  voice  from  the  carriage. 

The  girl  outside  of  the  carriage  hastily  unpinned  a  bunch 
of  English  violets  from  her  dress  and  handed  them  to  a 
small  boy  who  was  standing  shivering  on  the  edge  of  the 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  187 

sidewalk,  almost  under  the  horses'  feet.  He  took  them  with 
a  look  of  astonishment  and  a  "Thank  ye,  lady!"  and 
Instantly  buried  a  very  grimy  face  in  the  bunch  of  perfume. 
The  girl  stepped  into  the  carriage,  the  door  shut  with  the 
incisive  bang  peculiar  to  well-made  carriages  of  this  sort, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  coachman  was  speeding  tb? 
horses  rapidly  up  one  of  the  boulevards. 

"You  are  always  doing  some  queer  thing  or  other, 
Felicia,"  said  the  older  girl  as  the  carriage  whirled  on  past 
the  great  residences  already  brilliantly  lighted. 

"Am  I?  What  have  I  done  that  is  queer  now,  Rose?" 
asked  the  other  looking  up  suddenly  and  turning  her  head 
towards  her  sister, 

"Oh,  giving  those  violets  to  that  boy.  He  looked  as  if 
he  needed  a  good  hot  supper  more  than  a  bunch  of  violets. 
It's  a  wonder  you  didn't  invite  him  home  with  us.  I 
shouldn't  have  been  surprised  if  you  had.  You  are  always 
doing  such  queer  things,  Felicia." 

"Would  it  be  queer  to  invite  a  boy  like  that  to  come  to 
the  house  and  get  a  hot  supper?"  Felicia  asked  the  ques- 
tion softly  and  almost  as  if  she  were  alone. 

"Queer,  isn't  just  the  word  of  course,"  replied  Rose 
Indifferently.  "It  would  be  what  Madam  Blanc  calls 
'outre.'  Decidedly.  Therefore,  you  will  please  not  invite 
him,  or  others  like  him,  to  hot  suppers  because  I  sug- 
gested it.    Oh,  dear  I    I'm  awfully  tired  1" 

She  yawned  and  Felicia  silently  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow in  the  door. 

"The  concert  was  stupid,  and  the  violinist  was  simply 
a  bore.  I  don't  see  how  you  could  sit  so  still  through  it 
all,"  Rose  exclaimed  a  little  iirspatiently. 


188  IN  HIS  STEPS 

"I  liked  the  music,"  answered  Felicia  quietly. 

"You  like  anything.  I  never  saw  a  girl  with  so  little 
critical  taste." 

Felicia  colored  slightly  but  would  not  answer.  Rose 
yawned  again,  and  then  hummed  a  fragment  of  a  popular 
song.    Then  she  exclaimed  abruptly, 

"I'm  sick  of  most  everything.  I  hope  the  'Shadows  of 
London'  will  be  exciting  to-night." 

"The  'Shadows  of  Chicago,'  "  murmured  Felicia. 

"The  'Shadow^s  of  Chicago!'  'The  Shadows  of  London,' 
the  play,  the  great  drama  with  its  wonderful  scenery,  the 
sensation  of  New  York  for  two  months.  You  know  we 
have  a  box  with  the  Delanos  to-night." 

Felicia  turned  her  face  towards  her  sister.  Her  great 
brown  eyes  were  very  expressive  and  not  altogether  free 
from  a  sparkle  of  luminous  heat. 

"And  yet  we  never  weep  over  the  real  thing  on  the 
actual  stage  of  life.  What  are  the  shadows  of  London  on 
the  stage  to  the  shadows  of  London  or  Chicago  as  they 
really  exist?  Why  don't  we  get  excited  over  the  facts  as 
they  are?" 

"Because  the  actual  people  are  dirty  and  disagreeable 
and  it's  too  much  bother,  I  suppose,"  replied  Rose  care- 
lessly. "Felicia,  you  never  can  reform  the  world.  What's 
the  use?  We're  not  to  blame  for  the  poverty  and  misery. 
There  have  always  been  rich  and  poor.  And  there  always 
will  be.    We  ought  to  be  thankful  we're  rich." 

"Suppose  Christ  had  gone  on  that  principle,"  replied 
Felicia  with  unusual  persistence.  "Do  you  remember  Dr. 
Bruce' s  sermon  on  that  verse  a  few  Sundays  ago:  'For  ye 
know  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  though   he 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  189 

was  rich,  j'et  for  our  sakes  he  became  poor,  that  ye  through 
his  poverty  might  become  rich'?" 

"I  remember  it  well  enough,"  said  Rose  with  some 
petulance.  "And  didn't  Dr.  Bruce  go  on  to  say  that  there 
was  no  blame  attached  to  people  who  have  wealth,  if  they 
are  kind  and  give  to  the  needs  of  the  poor?  And  I  am  sure 
the  Doctor  hin?^  '^  is  pretty  comfortably  settled.  He  never 
gives  up  his  luxuries  just  because  some  people  in  the  city 
go  hungry.  What  good  would  it  do  if  he  did' .  I  tell  you, 
Felicia,  there  will  always  be  poor  and  rich  in  spite  of  all  we 
can  do.  Ever  since  Kachel  has  written  about  the  queer 
doings  in  Raymond,  you  have  upset  the  whole  family.  Peo- 
ple can't  live  at  that  concert  pitch  all  the  time.  You  see 
if  Rachel  doesn't  give  it  up  soon.  It's  a  great  pity  she 
doesn't  come  to  Chicago  and  sing  in  the  Auditorium  con- 
certs. I  heard  to-day  she  had  received  an  offer.  I'm  going 
to  write  and  urge  her  to  come.  I'm  just  dying  to  hear  her 
sing." 

Felicia  looked  out  of  the  window  and  was  silent.  The 
carriage  rolled  on  past  two  blocks  of  magnificent  private 
residences  and  turned  into  a  wide  driveway  under  a  cov- 
ered passage,  and  the  sisters  hurried  into  the  house.  It 
was  an  elegant  mansion  of  grey  stone,  furnished  like  a 
palace,  every  corner  of  it  warm  with  the  luxury  of  paint- 
ings, sculpture,  art  and  modern  refinement. 

The  owner  of  it  all,  Mr.  Charles  R.  Sterling,  stood  before 
an  open  grate  fire  smoking  a  cigar.  He  had  made  his 
money  in  grain  speculation  and  railroad  ventures,  and  was 
reputed  to  be  worth  something  over  two  millions.  His  wife 
was  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Winslow  of  Raymond.  She  had  been 
an  invalid  for  several  years.  The  two  girls.  Rose  and 
Felicia,  were   the    only   children.      Rose   was    twenty-one 


190  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

years  old,  fair,  vivacious,  educated  in  a  fashionable  college, 
just  entering  society  and  already  somewhat  cynical  and 
Indifferent.  A  very  hard  young  lady  to  please,  her  father 
said  sometimes  playfully,  sometimes  sternly.  Felicia  was 
nineteen,  with  a  tropical  beauty  somewhat  lilie  her  cousin 
Ilachel  Winslow,with  warm,  generous  impulses  just  walking 
into  Christian  feeling,  capable  of  all  sorts  of  expression, 
a  puzzle  to  her  father,  a  source  of  irritation  to  her  mother 
and  with  a  great,  unsurveyed  territory  of  thought  and 
action  in  herself  of  which  she  was  more  than  dimly  con- 
scious. There  was  that  in  Felicia  that  would  easily  endure 
any  condition  in  life,  if  only  the  liberty  to  act  fully  on  her 
conscientious  convictions  were  granted  her. 

"Here's  a  letter  for  you.  Felicia,"  said  Mr.  Sterling, 
taking  it  out  of  his  pocket. 

Felicia  sat  down  and  instantly  opened  the  letter,  say- 
ing as  she  did  so,  "It's  from  Rachel." 

"Well,  whafs  the  latest  news  from  Raymond?"  asked 
Mr.  Sterling,  taking  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth  and  looking 
at  Felicia  as  he  often  did  with  half-shut  eyes,  as  if  he  were 
studying  her. 

"Rachel  says  Dr.  Bruce  has  been  studying  in  Raymond 
for  two  Sundays  and  has  seemed  very  much  interested  in 
Mr.  Maxwell's  pledge  in  the  First  Church." 

"What  does  Rachel  say  about  herself?"  asked  Rose  who 
was  lying  on  a  couch  almost  buried  under  half  a  dozen  ele- 
gant cushions. 

"She  is  still  singing  at  the  Rectangle.  Since  the  tent 
meetings  closed,  she  sings  in  an  old  hall  until  the  new 
buildings  her  friend  Virginia  Page  is  putting  up  are  com- 
pleted." 

•'I  must  write  Rachel  to  come  to  Chicago  and  visit  us. 


"WHAT    WOULD  JESUS  DO!"  191 

She  ought  not  to  throw  away  her  voice  in  that  raih'oad 
town  upon  all  those  people  who  don't  appreciate  her." 

Mr.  Sterling  lighted  a  new  cigar  and  Rose  exclaimed, 

"Rachel  is  awful  queer,  I  think.  She  might  set  Chicago 
Avild  with  her  voice  if  she  sang  in  the  Auditorium.  And 
there  she  goes  on,  throwing  her  voice  away  on  people  who 
don't  know  what  they  are  hearing." 

"Rachel  won't  come  here  unless  she  can  do  it  and  keep 
her  pledge  at  the  same  time,"  said  Felicia  after  a  pause. 

"What  pledge?"  Mr.  Sterling  asked  the  question  and 
then  added  hastily,  "Oh,  I  know;  yes.  A  very  peculiar 
thing,  that.  Powers  used  to  be  a  friend  of  mine.  We 
learned  telegraphy  in  the  same  office.  Made  a  great  sen- 
sation when  he  resigned  and  handed  over  that  evidence  to 
the  Interstate  Commerce  Commission.  And  he's  back  at 
his  telegraph  again.  There  have  been  queer  doings  in 
Raymond  during  the  past  year.  I  wonder  what  Dr.  Bruce 
thinks  of  it  on  the  whole.  I  must  have  a  talk  with  hin) 
about  it." 

"He  preaches  to-morrow."  said  Felicia.  "Perhaps  he 
will  tell  us  something  about  it." 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute.  Then  Felicia  said 
abruptly,  as  if  she  had  gone  on  with  a  spoken  thought  to 
some  invisible  hearer,  "And  what  if  he  should  propose  the 
same  pledge  to  the  Nazareth  Avenue  Church?" 

"Who?  "N^'hat  are  you  talking  about?"  asked  her 
father  a  little  sharply. 

"About  Dr.  Bruce.  I  say,  what  if  he  should  propose  to 
our  church  what  Mr.  Maxwell  proposed  to  his,  and  ask  for 
volunteers  who  would  pledge  themselves  to  do  everything 
after  asking  the  question,  'What  vxould  Jesus  do?'" 


192  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"There's  no  clanger  of  it,"  said  Rose  rising  suddenly 
from  the  couch  as  the  tea-bell  rang. 

"It's  a  very  impracticable  movement,  to  my  mind,"  said 
Mr.  Sterling  sharply. 

"I  understand  from  Rachel's  letter  that  the  church  in 
Raymond  is  going  to  make  an  attempt  to  extend  the  idea 
of  the  pledge  to  the  other  churches.  If  they  succeed,  they 
will  certainly  make  great  changes  in  the  churches  and  in 
people's  lives,"  said  Felicia. 

"Oh,  well,  let's  have  some  tea  first,"  said  Rose  walking 
into  the  dining-room.  Her  father  and  Felicia  followed 
and  the  meal  proceeded  in  silence.  Mrs.  Sterling  had  her 
meals  served  in  her  room.  Mr.  Sterling  was  preoccupied. 
He  ate  very  little  and  excused  himself  early,  and  although 
it  was  Saturday  night  he  remarked  as  he  went  out  that  he 
would  be  down  town  late  on  some  special  business. 

"Don't  you  think  Father  looks  very  much  disturbed 
lately?"  asked  Felicia  a  little  while  after  he  had  gone  out. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  hadn't  noticed  anything  unusual." 
replied  Rose.  After  a  silence  she  said,  "Are  you  going  to 
the  play  to-night,  Felicia?  Mrs.  Delano  will  be  here  at  half 
past  seven.  I  think  you  ought  to  go.  She  will  feel  hurt  if 
you  refuse." 

"I'll  go.  I  don't  care  about  it.  I  can  see  shadows  enough 
without  going  to  the  play." 

"That's  a  doleful  remark  for  a  girl  nineteen  years  old 
to  make,"  replied  Rose.  "But  then  you're  queer  in  your 
ideas  anyhow,  Felicia.  If  you're  going  up  to  see  Mother, 
tell  her  I'll  run  in  after  the  play,  if  she  is  still  awake." 

Felicia  went  up  to  see  her  mother  and  remained  Avith 
her  until  the  Delano  carriage  came.  Mrs.  Sterling  was 
worried  about  her  husband.      She  talked  incessantly  and 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  193 

was  irritated  by  every  remark  Felicia  made.  She  would 
not  listen  to  Felicia's  attempts  to  read  even  a  part  of 
Rachel's  letter,  and  when  Felicia  offered  to  stay  with  her 
for  the  evening-  she  refused  the  offer  with  a  good  deal  of 
positive  sharpness. 

So  Felicia  started  off  to  the  play  not  very  happy,  but 
she  was  familiar  with  that  feeling,  only  sometimes  she  was 
more  unhappy  than  at  other  times.  Her  feeling  expressed 
itself  to-night  by  a  withdrawal  into  herself.  When  the 
company  was  seated  in  the  box  and  the  curtain  was  up, 
Felicia  was  back  of  the  others  and  remained  for  the  even- 
ing by  herself.  Mrs.  Delano  as  chaperon  for  a  half  dozen 
young  ladies,  understood  Felicia  well  enough  to  know  that 
she  was  "queer,"  as  Rose  so  often  said,  and  she  made  no 
attempt  to  draw  her  out  of  the  corner.  And  so  Felicia  really 
experienced  that  night  by  herself  one  of  the  feelings  that 
added  to  the  momentum  that  was  increasing  the  coming  on 
of  her  great  crisis. 

The  play  was  an  English  melodrama  full  of  startling 
situations,  realistic  scenery  and  unexpected  climaxes.  There 
was  one  scene  in  the  third  act  that  impressed  even  Rose 
Sterling. 

It  was  midnight  on  Blackfriar's  Bridge.  The  Thames 
flowed  dark  and  forbidding  below.  St.  Paul's  rose  through 
the  dim  light,  imposing,  its  dome  seeming  to  float 
above  the  buildings  surrounding  it.  The  figure  of  a 
child  came  upon  the  bridge  and  stood  there  for  a  moment 
peering  about  as  if  looking  for  some  one.  Several  persons 
were  crossing  the  bridge,  but  in  one  of  the  recesses  about 
midway  of  the  river  a  woman  stood,  leaning  out  over  the 
parapet  with  a  strained  agony  of  face  and  figure  that  told 
plainly  of  her  intentions.  Just  as  she  was  stealthily  mounting 


194  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

the  parapet  to  throw  herself  into  the  river,  the  child  caught 
sight  of  her,  ran  forward  with  a  shrill  cry  more  animal 
than  human,  and  seizing  the  woman's  dress  dragged  back 
upon  it  with  all  her  little  strength.  Then  there  came  sud- 
denly upon  the  scene  two  other  characters  who  had  already 
figured  in  the  play,  a  tall,  handsome,  athletic  gentleman 
dressed  in  the  fashion,  attended  by  a  slim-figured  lad  who 
w^as  as  refined  in  dress  and  appearance  as  the  little  girl 
clinging  to  her  mother  was  mournfully  hideous  in  her  rags 
and  repulsive  poverty.  These  two,  the  gentleman  and  the 
lad,  prevented  the  attempted  suicide,  and  after  a  tableau  on 
the  bridge  where  the  audience  learned  that  the  man  and 
woman  w^ere  brother  and  sister,  the  scene  was  transferred 
to  the  interior  of  one  of  the  slum  tenements  in  the  East  Side 
of  London.  Here  the  scene  painter  and  carpenter  had  done 
their  utmost  to  produce  an  exact  copy  of  a  famous  court 
and  alley  well  known  to  the  poor  creatures  who  make  up 
a  part  of  the  outcast  London  humanity.  The  rags,  the 
crowding,  the  vileness,  the  broken  furniture,  the  horrible 
animal  existence  forced  upon  creatures  made  in  God's 
image,  Avere  so  skillfully  shown  in  this  scene  that  more 
than  one  elegant  woman  in  the  theater,  seated  like  Rose 
Sterling  in  a  sumptuous  box,  surrounded  with  silk  hangings 
and  velvet  covered  raillng,caught  herself  shrinking  back  a 
little,  as  if  contamination  were  possible  from  the  nearness 
of  this  piece  of  painted  canvas.  It  was  almost  too  realistic, 
and  yet  it  had  a  horrible  fascination  for  Felicia  as  she  sat 
there  alone,  buried  back  in  a  cushioned  seat  and  absorbed 
in  thoughts  that  went  far  beyond  the  dialogue  on  the 
stage. 

From  the  tenement  scene  the  play  shifted  to  the  interior 
of  a  nobleman's  palace,  and  almost  a  sigh  of  relief  went  up 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  195 

all  over  the  house  at  the  sight  of  the  accustomed  luxury  of 
the  upper  classes.  The  contrast  was  startling.  It  was 
brought  about  by  a  clever  piece  of  staging  that  allowed  only 
a  few  minutes  to  elapse  between  the  slum  and  the  palace 
scenes.  The  dialogue  continued,  the  actors  came  and  w^ent 
in  their  various  roles,  but  upon  Felicia  the  play  made  but 
one  distinct  impression.  In  reality,  the  scenes  on  the  bridge 
and  in  the  slum  were  only  incidents  in  the  story  of  the  play 
but  Felicia  found  herself  living  those  scenes  over  and  over. 
She  had  never  philosophised  about  the  causes  of  human 
misery;  she  was  not  old  enough,  she  had  not  the  tempera- 
ment that  philosophises.  But  she  felt  intensely,  and  this  was 
not  the  first  time  she  had  felt  the  contrast  thrust  into  her 
feeling  between  the  upper  and  the  lower  conditions  of 
human  life.  It  had  been  growing  upon  her  until  it  had 
made  her  Avhat  Rose  called  "queer"  and  the  other  people  in 
her  circle  of  wealthy  acquaintances  called  "very  unusual". 
It  was  simply  the  human  problem  in  its  extremes  of  riches 
and  poverty,  its  refinement  and  its  vileness,  which  was,  in 
spite  of  her  unconscious  attempts  to  struggle  against  the 
facts,  burning  into  her  life  the  impression  that  would  in 
the  end  transform  her  into  either  a  woman  of  rare  love 
and  self-sacrifice  for  the  world,  or  a  miserable  enigma  to 
herself  and  all  who  knew  her. 

"Come,  Felicia,  aren't  you  going  home?"  said  Rose.  The 
play  was  over,  the  curtain  down,  and  people  v.'ere  going 
noisily  out,  laughing  and  gossiping,  as  if  "The  Shadows  of 
London"  were  simply  good  diversion,  as  they  were,  put  on 
the  stage  so  effectively. 

Felicia  rose  and  went  out  Avith  the  rest  quietly,  and 
with  tlie  absorbed  feeling  that  had  actually  left  her  in  her 
seat  oblivious  of  the  play's  ending.    She  was  never  absent- 


196  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

minded,  but  often  thought  herself  into  a  condition  that  left 
her  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd. 

"Well,  what  did  you  think  of  it?"  asked  Rose  when  the 
sisters  had  reached  home  and  were  in  the  drawing-room. 
Rose  really  had  considerable  respect  for  Felicia's  judgment 
of  a  play. 

"I  thought  it  was  a  pretty  fair  picture  of  real  life." 

"I  mean  the  acting,"  said  Rose  annoyed. 

"The  bridge  scene  was  well  acted,  especially  the  wom- 
an's part.  I  thought  the  man  overdid  the  sentiment  a  lit- 
tle." 

"Did  you?  I  enjoyed  that.  And  wasn't  the  scene 
between  the  two  cousins  funny  when  they  first  learned  that 
they  were  related?  But  the  slum  scene  was  horrible.  I 
think  they  ought  not  to  show  such  things  in  a  play.  They 
are  too  painful." 

"They  must  be  painful  in  real  life,  too,"  replied  Fe- 
licia. 

"Yes,  but  we  don't  have  to  look  at  the  real  thing.  It's 
bad  enough  at  the  theater  where  we  pay  for  it." 

Rose  went  into  the  drawing-room  and  began  to  eat  from 
a  plate  of  fruit  and  cakes  on  the  side-board. 

"Are  you  going  up  to  see  Mother?"  asked  Felicia  after 
a  while.  She  had  remained  in  front  of  the  drawing-room 
fire. 

"No,"  replied  Rose  from  the  other  room.  "I  won't 
trouble  her  to-night.  If  you  go  in,  tell  her  I  am  too  tired 
to  be  agreeable." 

So  Felicia  turned  into  her  mother's  room.  As  she  went 
up  the  great  staircase  and  down  the  upper  hall,  the  light 
was  burning  there  and  the  servant  who  always  waited  on 
Mrs.  Sterling  was  beckoning  Felicia  to  come  in. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  lOT 

"Tell  Clara  to  go  out,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sterling,  as  Fe- 
licia came  up  to  the  bed  and  kneeled  by  it. 

Felicia  was  surprised,  but  she  did  as  her  mother  bade 
her  and  then  inquired  how  she  was  feeling. 

"Felicia,"  said  her  mother,  "Can  you  pray?" 

The  question  was  so  unlike  any  her  mother  had  ever 
asked  before,  that  Felicia  was  startled.     But  she  answered, 

"Why,  yes.  Mother.  What  makes  you  ask  such  a  ques- 
tion?" 

"Felicia,  I  am  frightened.  Your  father— I  have  had 
such  strange  fears  about  him  all  day.  Something  is  wrong 
with  him.    I  want  you  to  pray." 

"Now?    Here,  Mother?" 

"Yes.    Pray,  Felicia." 

Felicia  reached  out  her  hand  and  took  her  mother's.  It 
was  trembling.  Mrs.  Sterling  had  never  shown  much  ten- 
derness for  her  younger  daughter,  and  her  strange  demand 
now  was  the  first  real  sign  of  any  confidence  in  Felicia's 
character. 

The  girl  still  kneeled,  holding  her  mother's  trembling 
hand,  and  prayed.  It  was  doubtful  if  she  had  ever  prayed 
aloud  before.  She  must  have  said  in  her  prayer  the  words 
that  her  mother  needed,  for  when  it  was  silent  in  the  room 
the  invalid  was  weeping  softly  and  her  nervous  tension  was 
over. 

Felicia  stayed  some  time.  When  she  was  assured  that 
her  mother  would  not  need  her  any  longer,  she  rose  to  go. 

"Good  night,  Mother.  You  must  let  Clara  call  me,  if 
you  feel  bad  in  the  night." 

"I  feel  better  now."  Then  as  Felicia  was  moving  away, 
Mrs.  Sterling  said,  "Won't  you  kiss  me.  Felicin?" 

Felicia  wont  l)ack  and  bent  over  her  mother.     The  kiss 


198  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

was  almost  as  strange  to  her  as  the  prayer  had  been.  When 
Felicia  went  out  of  the  room,  her  cheelvs  were  wet  with 
tears.     She  had  not  cried  since  she  was  a  little  girl. 

Sunday  morning  at  the  Sterling  mansion  was  generally 
very  quiet.  The  girls  usually  went  to  church  at  eleven  o'clocl<: 
service.  Mr.  Sterling  was  not  a  member  but  a  heavy  con- 
tributor, and  he  generally  Avent  to  church  in  the  morning. 
This  time  he  did  not  come  down  to  breakfast,  and  finally 
sent  word  by  a  servant  that  he  did  not  feel  well  enough 
to  go  out.  So  Rose  and  Felicia  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the 
Nazareth  Avenue  Church  and  entered  the  family  pew  alone. 

When  Dr.  Bruce  wallvcd  out  of  the  room  at  the  rear  of 
the  platform  and  went  up  to  the  pulpit  to  open  the  Bible 
as  his  custom  v/as,  those  who  knew  him  best  did  not  detect 
anything  unusual  in  his  manner  or  his  expression.  He 
proceeded  with  the  service  as  usual.  He  was  calm  and  his 
voice  was  steady  and  firm.  His  praj^er  was  the  first  inti- 
mation the  people  had  of  anything  new  or  strange  in  the 
service.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  Nazareth  Avenue  Church 
had  not  heard  Dr.  Bruce  offer  such  a  prayer  during  the 
twelve  years  he  had  been  pastor  there.  How  would  a  min- 
ister be  likely  to  pray  who  had  come  out  of  a  revolution  in 
Christian  feeling  that  had  completely  changed  his  definition 
of  what  was  meant  by  following  Jesus?  No  one  in  Naza- 
reth Avenue  Church  had  any  idea  that  the  Rev.  Calvin 
Bruce,  D.D.,the  dignified,  cultured,  refined  Doctor  of  Divin- 
ity, had  within  a  few  days  been  crying  like  a  little  child, 
on  his  knees,  asking  for  strength  and  courage  and  Christ- 
likeness  to  spealv  his  Sunday  message;  and  yet  the  prayer 
was  an  unconscious  involuntary  disclosure  of  the  soul's 
experience  such  as  Nazareth  Avenue  people  seldom  heard, 
and  never  before  from  that  pulpit. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  199 

In  the  hush  that  succeeded  the  prayer,  a  distinct  wave 
of  spiritual  power  moved  over  the  congregation.  The  most 
careless  persons  in  the  church  felt  it.  Felicia,  whose  sen- 
sitive religious  nature  responded  sv.iftly  to  every  touch  of 
emotion,  quivered  under  tlie  passing  of  that  supernatural 
power;  and  when  she  lifted  her  head  and  lodged  up  at  the 
minister  there  was  a  loolc  in  her  eyes  that  announced  her 
intense,  eager  anticipation  of  the  scene  that  was  to  fol- 
low. 

And  she  was  not  alone  in  her  attitude.  There^was  some- 
thing in  the  prayer  and  the  result  of  it  that  stirred  many 
and  many  a.  disciple  in  Nazareth  Avenue  Church.  All  over 
the  house,  men  and  women  leaned  forward;  and  when  Dr. 
Bruce  began  to  speak  of  his  visit  to  Raymond,  in  the  open- 
ing sentences  of  his  address  which  this  morning  preceded 
his  sermon,  there  Avas  an  answering  response  in  the  church 
that  came  back  to  him  as  he  spoke,  and  thrilled  him  with 
the  hope  of  a  spiritual  baptism  such  as  lie  had  never  during 
all  his  ministry  experienced. 

"I  am  just  back  from  a  visit  to  Raymond,"  Dr.  Bruce 
began,  "And  I  want  to  tell  you  something  of  my  impres- 
sions of  the  movement  there." 

He  paused,  and  his  look  went  over  his  people  with 
yearning  for  them  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  a  great 
uncertainty  at  his  heart.  How  many  of  his  rich,  fashion- 
able, refined,  luxury-loving  members  would  understand  the 
nature  of  the  appeal  he  was  soon  to  make  to  them?  He 
was  altogether  in  the  dark  as  to  that.  Nevertheless,  he 
had  been  through  his  desert  and  had  come  out  of  it  ready 
to  suffer.  He  went  on  now.  after  that  brief  pause,  and 
told  the  story  of  his  stay  in  Raymond.  The  people  already 
knew  something  of  that  experiment  in  the  First  Church. 


300  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

The  whole  country  had  watched  the  progress  of  the  pledge 
as  it  had  become  history  in  so  many  lives.  Henry  Maxwell 
had  at  last  decided  that  the  time  had  come  to  seek 
the  fellowship  of  other  churches  throughout  the  country. 
The  new  discipleship  in  Raymond  had  proved  to  be  so  valu- 
able in  its  results  that  Henry  Maxwell  wished  the  church 
in  general  to  share  with  the  disciples  in  Raymond.  Already 
there  had  begun  a  volunteer  movement  in  many  of  the 
churches  throughout  the  country,  acting  on  their  own  desire 
to  walk  closer  in  the  steps  of  Jesus.  The  Christian  Endeavor 
Societies  had  with  enthusiasm,  in  many  churches,  taken  the 
pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do,  and  the  result  was  already 
marked  in  a  deeper  spiritual  life  and  a  power  in  church 
influence  that  was  like  a  new  birth  for  the  members. 

All  this  Dr.  Bruce  told  his  people  simply  and  with  a 
personal  interest  that  evidently  led  the  way  to  his 
announcement  w^hich  now  followed.  Felicia  had  listened 
to  every  word  with  strained  attention.  She  sat  there 
by  the  side  of  Rose,  in  contrast  like  fire  beside  snow, 
although  even  Rose  was  as  alert  and  excited  as  she 
could  be, 

"Dear  friends,"  he  said,  and  for  the  first  time  since  hi« 
prayer  the  emotion  of  the  occasion  Avas  revealed  in  his 
voice  and  gesture,  "I  am  going  to  ask  that  Nazareth  Avenue 
Church  take  the  same  pledge  that  Raymond  Church  has 
taken.  I  know  what  this  will  mean  to  you  and  me.  It 
will  mean  the  complete  change  of  very  many  habits.  It 
Avill  mean,  possibly,  social  1C)SS.  It  will  mean  very  probably, 
in  many  cases,  loss  of  money.  It  will  mean  suffering.  It 
will  mean  what  following  Jesus  meant  in  the  first  century, 
and  then  it  meant  suffering,  loss,  hardship,  separation  from 
everything  un-Christian.      But  what  does  following  Jesus 


••what  would  JESUS  DO?"  201 

mean?  The  test  of  tliscipleship  is  the  same  now  as  then. 
Those  of  you  who  volunteer  in  the  Nazareth  Avenue 
Church  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do,  simply  promise  to  walk 
in  His  steps  as  He  gave  us  commandment." 

Again  Rev.  Calvin  Bruce,  pastor  of  Nazareth  Avenue 
Church,  paused,  and  now  the  result  of  his  announcement 
was  plainly  visible  in  the  stir  that  went  over  the  congrega- 
tion. He  added  in  a  quiet  voice  that  all  who  volunteered 
to  make  the  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do,  were  asked  to 
remain  after  the  morning  service. 

Instantly  he  proceeded  with  his  sermon.  His  text  was 
from  Matthew,  viii:19,  "Master,  I  will  follow  thee  whither- 
soever thou  goest." 

It  was  a  sermon  that  touched  the  deep  springs  of  con- 
duct; it  was  a  revelation  to  the  people  of  the  definition 
their  pastor  had  been  learning;  it  took  them  back  to  the 
first  century  of  Christianity;  above  all,  it  stirred  them 
below  the  conventional  thought  of  years  as  to  the  meaning 
and  purpose  of  church  membership.  It  was  such  a  sermon 
as  a  man  can  preach  once  in  a  lifetime,  and  vrith  enough 
in  it  for  people  to  live  on  all  through  a  lifetime. 

The  service  closed  in  a  hush  that  was  slowly  broken. 
People  rose  here  and  there  a  few  at  a  time.  There  was  a 
reluctance  in  the  movements  of  the  people  that  w^as  very 
striking. 

Rose,  however,  walked  straight  out  of  the  pew,  and  as 
she  reached  the  aisle  she  turned  her  head  and  beckoned  to 
Felicia.  By  that  time  the  congregation  was  rising  all  over 
the  church. 

Felicia  instantly  answered  her  sister's  look. 

"I'm  going  to  stay,"  she  said,  and  Rose  had  heard  her 
speak  in  the  same  manner  on  other  occnsions  and  knew 


202  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

that  Felicia's  resolve  could  not  be  changed.  Nevertheless, 
she  went  back  into  the  pew  two  or  three  steps  and  faced 
her. 

"Felicia,"  she  whispered,  and  there  was  a  flush  of  anger 
on  her  cheeks,  "this  is  folly.  What  can  you  do?  You  will 
bring  disgrace  upon  the  family.  What  will  Father  say? 
Come." 

Felicia  looked  at  her  but  did  not  answer  at  once.  Her 
lips  were  moving  with  a  petition  that  came  from  a  depth  of 
feeling  that  measured  a  new  life  for  her.  She  shook  her 
head. 

"No,  I  am  going  to  stay.  I  shall  take  the  pledge.  I  am 
ready  to  obey  it.    You  do  not  know  why  I  am  doing  this." 

Rose  gave  her  one  look,  and  then  turned  and  went  out  of 
the  pew  and  down  the  aisle.  She  did  not  even  stop  to 
talk  with  her  acquaintances,  Mrs.  Delano  was  going  out 
of  the  church  just  as  Rose  stepped  into  the  vestibule. 

"So  you  are  not  going  to  join  the  Doctor's  volunteer 
company?"  Mrs.  Delano  asked  in  a  queer  tone  that  made 
Rose  redden. 

"No,  are  you?  It  is  simply  absurd.  I  have  always 
regarded  the  Raymond  movement  as  fanatical.  You  know 
Cousin  Rachel  I^eeps  us  posted  about  it." 

"Yes,  I  understand  it  is  resulting  in  a  great  deal  of 
hardship  in  many  cases.  For  my  part  I  believe  Dr.  Bruce 
had  simply  provoked  a  disturbance  here.  It  will 
result  in  splitting  Nazareth  Avenue  Church.  You  see 
if  that  isn't  so.  There  are  scores  of  people  in  the  church 
who  are  so  situated  that  they  can't  take  such  a  pledge  and 
keep  it.  I  am  one  of  them,"  added  Mrs.  Delano  as  she 
went  out  with  Rose. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  208 

Wh^^n  Rose  reached  home  her  father  was  standing  in  his 
usual  attitude  before  the  open  fireplace,  smoking  a  cigar. 

"Where  is  Felicia?"  lije  asked  as  Rose  came  in  alone. 

"She  staj-ed  to  an  after-meeting,"  replied  Rose  shortly. 
She  threw  off  her  wraps  and  was  going  up-stairs  when 
Mr.  Sterling  called  after  her, 

"An  after-meeting?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"Dr.  Bruce  asked  the  church  to  take  the  Raymond 
pledge." 

Mr.  Sterling  took  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth  and 
twirled  it  nervously  between  his  fingers. 

"I  didn't  expect  that  of  Dr.  Bruce.  Did  many  of  the 
members  stay?" 

"I  don*t  know.  I  didn't,"  replied  Rose,  and  she  went 
up  stairs  leaving  her  father  standing  in  the  drawing-room. 

After  a  few  minutes  he  went  to  the  window  and  stood 
there  looking  out  at  the  people  driving  on  the  boulevard. 
His  cigar  had  gone  out  but  he  still  fingered  it  nervously. 
Then  he  turned  from  the  window^  and  w^alked  up  and  down 
the  room.  A  servant  stepped  across  the  hall  and  announced 
dinner,  and  he  told  her  to  wait  for  Felicia.  Rose  came  down 
stairs  and  went  into  the  library.  And  still  Mr.  Sterling 
paced  the  drawing-room  restlessly. 

He  had  finally  wearied  of  the  walking,  apparently,  and 
throwing  himself  into  a  chair  was  brooding  over  something 
deeply  when  Felicia  came  in. 

He  rose  and  faced  her.  Felicia  was  evidently  very 
much  moved  by  the  meeting  from  which  she  had  just  come. 
At  the  same  time  she  did  not  wish  to  talk  too  much  about 
it.  Just  as  she  entered  the  drawing-room,  Rose  came  in 
from  the  library. 


204  IN  HIS  STEPS 

"How  mauy  stayed?"  she  asked.  Rose  was  curious. 
At  the  same  time  she  Avas  slveptieal  of  the  whole  movement 
in  Raymond. 

"About  a  hundred,"  replied  Felicia,  gravely.  Mr.  Ster- 
ling looked  surprised.  Felicia  was  going  out  of  the  room. 
He  called  to  her. 

"Do  you  really  mean  to  keep  the  pledge?"  he  asked. 

Felicia  colored.  Over  her  face  and  neck  the  warm  blood 
flowed  as  she  answered,  "You  would  not  ask  such  a  ques- 
tion, Father,  if  you  had  been  present  at  the  meeting."  She 
lingered  a  moment  in  the  room,  then  asked  to  be  excused 
from  dinner  for  a  while  and  went  up  to  see  her  mother. 

No  one  ever  knew  what  that  interview  between  Fe- 
licia and  her  mother  was.  It  is  certain  that  she  must  have 
told  her  mother  something  of  the  spiritual  power  that  had 
awed  every  person  present  in  the  company  of  disciples 
from  Nazareth  Avenue  Church  who  faced  Dr.  Bruce  in 
that  meeting  after  the  morning  service.  It  is  also  certain 
that  Felicia  had  never  known  such  an  experience  and  never 
would  have  thought  of  sharing  it  with  her  mother,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  prayer  the  evening  before.  Another  fact 
is  also  known  of  Felicia's  experience  at  this  time.  When 
she  finally  joined  her  father  and  Rose  at  the  table,  she 
seemed  unable  to  tell  them  much  about  the  meeting.  There 
was  a  reluctance  to  speak  of  it,  as  one  might  hesitate  to 
attempt  a  description  of  a  wonderful  sunset  to  a  person 
who  never  talked  about  anything  but  the  weather.  When 
that  Sunday  in  the  Sterling  mansion  was  drawing  to  a  close 
and  the  soft,  warm  lights  throughout  the  dwelling  were 
glowing  through  the  great  windows,  in  a  corner  of  her 
room,  where  the  light  was  obscure,  Felicia  kneeled,  and 
when  she  raised  her  face  and  turned  it  towards  the  light. 


"WHAT    WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  205 

it  was  the  face  of  a  woman  who  had  already  defined  for 
herself  the  greatest  issues  of  earthly  life. 

That  same  evening,  after  the  Sunday  evening  service 
the  Rev.  Calvin  Bruce,  D.D,,  of  Nazareth  Avenue  Church, 
was  talking  over  the  events  of  the  day  with  his  wife.  They 
were  of  one  heart  and  mind  in  the  matter,  and  faced  their 
new  future  with  all  the  faith  and  courage  of  new  disci- 
ples. Neither  was  deceived  as  to  the  probable  results  of 
the  pledge  to  themselves  or  to  the  church. 

They  had  been  talking  but  a  little  while  when  the  bell 
rang,  and  Dr.  Bruce  going  to  the  door,  exclaimed  as  he 
opened  it,  "It  is  j'ou,  Edward!    Come  in!" 

There  came  into  the  hall  a  commanding  figure.  The 
Bishop  was  of  extraordinary  height  and  breadth  of  shoul- 
der, but  of  such  good  proportions  that  there  was  no  thought 
of  ungainly  or  even  of  unusual  size.  The  impression  the 
Bishop  made  on  strangers  was,  first,  that  of  great  health, 
and  then  of  great  affection. 

He  came  into  the  parlor  and  greeted  Mrs.  Bruce,  who 
after  a  few  moments  was  called  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
the  two  men  together. 

The  Bishop  sat  in  a  deep,  easy  chair  before  the  open 
fire.  There  was  just  enough  dampness  in  the  early  spring 
of  the  year  to  make  an  open  fire  pleasant. 

•'Calvin,  you  have  taken  a  very  serious  step  to-day," 
he  finally  said,  lifting  his  large,  dark  eyes  to  his  old  college 
classmate's  face.  "1  heard  of  it  this  afternoon.  I  could 
not  resist  the  desire  to  see  you  about  it  to-night." 

"I'm  glad  you  came."  Dr.  Bruce  sat  near  the  Bishop 
and  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "You  understand  what 
this  means,  Edward?" 

"I  think  I  do.    Yes,  I  am  sure."    The  Bishop  spoke  very 


306  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

slowly  and  thoughtfully.  He  sat  with  his  hands  clasped 
together.  Over  his  face,  marlied  with  lines  of  consecration 
and  service  and  the  love  of  men,  a  shadow  crept,  a  shadow 
not  caused  by  the  firelight.  Again  he  lifted  his  eyes 
towards  liis  old  friend. 

"Calvin,  we  have  always  understood  each  other.  Ever 
since  our  paths  led  us  in  different  ways  in  church  life,  we 
have  walked  together  in  Christian  fellow^ship." 

"It  is  true,"  replied  Dr.  Bruce  with  an  emotion  he  made 
no  attempt  to  conceal  or  subdue.  "Thank  God  for  it.  I 
prize  your  fellowship  more  than  any  man's.  I  have  alw^ays 
knoW'U  what  it  meant,  though  it  has  always  been  more 
than  I  deserve." 

The  Bishop  looked  affectionately  at  his  friend.  But  the 
shadow  still  rested  on  his  face.  After  a  pause  he  spoke 
again. 

"The  new^  discipleship  means  a  crisis  for  you  in  j^our 
work.  If  you  keep  this  pledge  to  do  all  things  as  Jesus 
Avould  do— as  I  know  you  will— it  requires  no  prophet  to 
predict  some  remarkable  changes  in  your  parish."  The 
Bishop  looked  wistfully  at  Bruce  and  then  continued.  "In 
fact,  I  do  not  see  how  a  perfect  upheaval  of  Christianity, 
as  we  now  know  it,  can  be  prevented  if  the  ministry  and 
churches  generally  take  the  Raymond  pledge  and  live  it 
out."  He  paused  as  if  he  w^ere  waiting  for  his  friend  to 
say  something,  to  ask  some  question.  But  Bruce  did  not 
know  of  the  fire  that  was  burning  in  the  Bishop's  heart 
over  the  very  question  that  Maxwell  and  himself  had 
fought  out. 

"Now,  in  my  church,  for  instance,"  continued  the 
Bishop,  "it  would  be  rather  a  difficult  matter,  I  fear,  to  find 
very  many  people  w^ho  would  take  a  pledge  like  that  and 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  207 

live  up  to  it.  Martyrdom  is  a  lost  art  with  us.  Our  Chris- 
tianity loves  its  ease  and  comfort  too  well  to  take  up  any- 
thing so  rough  and  heavy  as  a  cross.  And  yet  what  does 
following  Jesus  mean?    What  is  it  to  walk  in  His  steps?" 

The  Bishop  was  soliloquizing  now,  and  it  is  doubtful  if 
he  thought  for  the  moment  of  his  friend's  presence.  For 
the  first  time  there  flashed  into  Dr.  Bruce's  mind  a  sus- 
picion of  the  truth.  What  if  the  Bishop  should  throw  the 
weight  of  his  great  influence  on  the  side  of  the  Raymond 
movement?  He  had  the  folloAving  of  the  most  aristocratic, 
wealthy,  fashionable  people,  not  only  in  Chicago  but  in  sev- 
eral large  cities.  What  if  the  Bishop  should  join  this  new 
discipleshipl 

The  thought  was  about  to  be  followed  by  the  word.  Dr. 
Bruce  had  reached  out  his  hand  and,  with  the  familiarity 
of  life-long  friendship,  had  placed  it  on  the  Bishop's  shoul- 
der and  was  about  to  aslv  him  a  very  important  question, 
when  they  were  both  startled  by  the  violent  ringing  of 
the  bell.  Mrs.  Bruce  had  gone  to  the  door  and  was  talk- 
ing with  some  one  in  the  hall.  There  was  a  loud  exclama- 
tion and  then,  as  the  Bishop  rose  and  Dr.  Bruce  was  step- 
ping toward  the  curtain  that  hung  before  the  entrance  to 
the  parlor,  Mrs.  Bruce  pushed  it  aside.  Her  face  was 
white  and  she  was  trembling. 

"O  Calvin!  Such  terrible  news!  Mr.  Sterling— Oh.  I 
cannot  tell  it:    What  a  fearful  blow  to  those  two  girls!" 

"What  is  it!"  Dr.  Bruce  advanced  with  the  Bishop  into 
the  hall  and  confronted  the  messenger,  a  servant  from  the 
Sterlings.  The  man  was  without  his  hat  and  had  evidently 
run  over  with  the  news,  as  the  Doctor  lived  nearest  of  any 
friends  of  the  family. 


308  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"Mr.  sterling  shot  himself,  sir,  a  few  minutes  ago!  He 
killed  himself  in  his  bedroom  I    Mrs.  Sterling—" 

"I  will  go  right  over.  Edward,"  Dr.  Bruce  turned  to 
the  Bishop,  "will  you  go  with  me?  The  Sterlings  are  old 
friends  of  yours." 

The  Bishop  was  very  pale,  but  calm  as  always.  He 
looked  his  friend  in  the  face  and  answered,  "Aye,  Calvin, 
I  will  go  with  you,  not  only  to  this  house  of  death,  but  also 
the  whole  way  of  human  sin  and  sorrow,  please  God." 

And  even  in  that  moment  of  horror  at  the  unexpected 
news,  Calvin  Bruce  understood  what  the  Bishop  had  prom- 
ised to  do. 


CHAPTER  X- 


"These  are  they  which  follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he 
goeth." 

When  Dr.  Bruce  and  the  Bishop  entered  the  Sterling 
mansion  everything  in  the  usually  well-appointed  house- 
hold was  in  the  greatest  confusion  and  terror.  The  great 
rooms  down  stairs  were  empty,  but  overhead  were  hurried 
footsteps  and  confused  noises.  One  of  the  servants  ran 
down  the  grand  staircase  with  a  look  of  horror  on  her  face 
just  as  the  Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce  were  starting  to  go  up. 

"Miss  Felicia  is  with  Mrs.  Sterling,"  the  servant  stam- 
mered in  answer  to  a  question,  and  then  burst  into  a  hys- 
terical cry  and  ran  through  the  drawing-room  and  out  of 
doors. 

At  the  top  of  the  staircase  the  two  men  were  met  by 
Felicia. 

She  walked  up  to  Dr.  Bruce  at  once  and  put  both  hands 
in  his.  The  Bishop  laid  his  hand  on  her  head  and  the  three 
stood  there  a  moment  in  perfect  silence. 

The  Bishop  had  known  Felicia  since  she  was  a  child. 
He  was  the  first  to  break  silence. 

"The  God  of  all  mercy  be  with  you,  Felicia,  in  this  dark 
hour.    Your  mother—" 

The  Bishop  hesitated.  Out  of  the  buried  past  he  had, 
during  his  hurried  passage  from  his  friend's  house  to  this 
house  of  death,  irresistibly  drawn  the  one  tender  romance 


210  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

of  his  young  manhood.  Not  even  Bruce  knew  that.  But 
there  had  been  a  time  when  the  Bishop  had  offered  the 
incense  of  a  singularly  undivided  affection  upon  the  altar 
of  his  youth  to  the  beautiful  Camilla  Rolfe,  and  she  had 
chosen  between  him  and  the  millionaire.  The  Bishop  car- 
ried no  bitterness  with  his  memory.  But  it  was  still  a 
memory. 

For  answer  to  the  Bishop's  unfinished  query,  Felicia 
turned  and  went  back  into  her  mother's  room.  She  had 
not  said  a  word  yet.  But  both  men  were  struck  with  her 
wonderful  calm.  She  returned  to  the  hall  door  and  beck- 
oned to  them,  and  the  two  ministers,  with  a  feeling  that 
they  were  about  to  behold  something  very  unusual,  entered. 

Bose  lay  with  her  arms  outstretched  on  the  bed.  Clara 
the  nurse,  sat  with  her  head  covered,  sobbing  in  spasms 
of  terror.  And  Mrs.  Sterling,  with  "the  light  that  never 
was  on  sea  or  land"  luminous  on  her  face,  lay  there  so  still 
that  even  the  Bishop  was  deceived  at  first.  Then  as  the 
great  truth  broke  upon  him  and  Dr.  Bruce  he  staggered, 
and  the  sharp  agony  of  the  old  wound  shot  through  him. 
It  passed  and  left  him  standing  there  in  that  chamber  of 
death  with  the  eternal  calmness  and  strength  that  the  chil- 
dren of  God  have  a  right  to  possess.  And  right  well  he 
used  that  calmness  and  strength  in  the  days  that  followed. 

The  next  moment  the  house  below  was  in  a  tumult. 
Almost  at  the  same  time  the  doctor,  who  had  been  sent 
for  at  once  but  lived  some  distance  away,  came  in,  together 
with  police  oflScers  who  had  been  summoned  by  the  fright- 
ened servants.  With  them  were  four  or  five  newspaper 
correspondents  and  several  neighbors.  Dr.  Bruce  and  the 
Bishop  met  this  miscellaneous  crowd  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs  and  succeeded  In  excluding  all  except  tho?!e  whose 


"WHAT    WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  211 

presence  was  neeessaiT.  With  these  the  two  friends  learned 
all  the  facts  ever  known  about  "the  Sterling  tragedy",  as 
the  papers  in  their  sensational  accounts  next  day  called  it. 

Mr.  Sterling  had  gone  into  his  room  that  evening  about 
nine  o'clock,  and  that  was  the  last  seen  of  him  until,  in 
half  an  hour,  a  shot  was  heard,  and  a  servant  who  was  in 
the  hall  ran  into  the  room  and  found  the  owner  of  the 
house  dead  on  the  floor,  killed  by  his  own  hand.  Felicia  at 
the  time  was  sitting  by  her  mother.  Rose  was  reading  in 
the  library.  She  ran  up  stairs,  saw  her  father  as  he  was 
being  lifted  upon  the  couch  by  the  servants,  and  then  ran 
screaming  into  her  mother's  room,  where  she  flung  herself 
down  on  the  foot  of  the  bed  in  a  swoon.  Mrs.  Sterling  had 
at  first  fainted  at  the  shock,  then  rallied  with  wonderful 
swiftness  and  sent  a  messenger  to  call  Dr.  Bruce.  She  had 
then  insisted  on  seeing  her  husband.  In  spite  of  Felicia, 
she  had  compelled  Clara  and  the  housemaid,  terrified  and 
trembling,  to  support  her  while  she  crossed  the  hall  and 
entered  the  room  where  her  husband  lay.  She  had  looked 
upon  him  with  a  tearless  face,  had  gone  back  into  her  own 
room,  was  laid  on  the  bed,  and  as  Dr.  Bruce  and  the  Bishop 
entered  the  house  she,  with  a  prayer  of  forgiveness  for  her- 
self and  her  husband  on  her  quivering  lips,  had  died,  with 
Felicia  bending  over  her  and  Rose  still  lying  senseless  at 
her  feet. 

So  great  and  swift  had  been  the  entrance  of  grim  Death 
into  that  palace  of  luxury  that  Sunday  night.  But  the  full 
cause  of  his  coming  was  not  known  until  the  facts  in 
regard  to  Mr.  Sterling's  business  affairs  were  finally  dis- 
closed. 

Then  it  was  learned  that  for  some  time  he  had  been 
facing  financial  ruin  owing  to  certain  speculations  that  had 


31'3  IN   HIS  STEPS. 

in  a  month's  time  swept  his  supposed  wealth  into  complete 
destruction.  With  the  cunning  and  desperation  of  a  man 
who  battles  for  his  very  life,  Avhen  he  saw  his  money, 
which  was  all  the  life  he  ever  valued,  slipping  from  him, 
he  had  put  off  the  evil  day  to  the  last  moment.  Sunday 
afternoon,  however,  he  had  received  nev>-s  that  proved  to 
him  beyond  a  doubt  the  fact  of  his  utter  ruin.  The  very 
house  that  he  called  his,  the  chairs  in  which  he  sat,  his 
carriage,  his  dishes  from  which  he  ate,  had  all  been  bought 
by  money  for  which  he  himself  had  never  really  done  an 
honest  stroke  of  pure  labor. 

•  It  had  all  rested  on  a  tissue  of  deceit  and  speculation 
that  had  no  foundation  in  real  values.  He  knew  the  fact 
better  than  any  one  else,  but  he  had  hoped,  with  the  hope 
that  such  men  always  have,  that  the  same  methods  that 
brought  him  the  money  would  also  prevent  its  loss.  He 
had  been  deceived  in  this  as  many  others  have  been.  As 
soon  as  the  truth  that  he  was  practically  a  beggar  had 
dawned  upon  him,  he  saw"  no  escape  from  suicide.  It  was 
the  irresistible  result  of  such  a  life  as  he  had  lived.  He 
had  made  money  his  god.  As  soon  as  that  god  had  gone 
out  of  his  little  world  there  was  nothing  more  to  worship, 
and  when  a  man's  object  of  worship  is  gone  he  has  no  more 
to  live  for.  Thus  died  the  great  millionaire,  Charles  R. 
Sterling.  And  verily  he  died  as  the  fool  dieth,  for  what  is 
the  gain  or  the  loss  of  money  compared  with  the  unsearch- 
able riches  of  eternal  life  which  are  beyond  the  reach  of 
speculation,  loss  or  change. 

Mrs.  Sterling's  death  was  the  result  of  shock.  She  had 
not  been  taken  into  her  husband's  confidence  for  years,  but 
she  knew  that  the  source  of  his  wealth  was  precarious. 
Her  life  for  several  years  had  been  a  death  in  life.    The 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  213 

Rolfes  always  gave  the  impressioD  that  they  could  endure 
more  disaster  unmoved  than  any  one  else.  Mrs.  Sterling 
illustrated  the  old  family  tradition  when  she  was  carried 
into  the  room  where  her  husband  lay.  But  the  feeble  tene- 
ment could  not  hold  the  spirit  and  it  gave  up  the  ghost, 
torn  and  weakened  by  long  years  of  suffering  and  disap- 
pointment. 

The  effect  of  this  triple  blow,  the  death  of  father  and 
mother  and  the  loss  of  property  was  instantly  apparent  in 
the  sisters.  The  horror  of  events  stupified  Kose  for  weelis. 
She  lay  unmoved  by  sympathy  or  any  effort  to  rally.  She 
did  not  seem  yet  to  realize  that  the  money  which  had  been 
so  large  a  part  of  her  very  existence  was  gone.  Even  when 
she  was  told  that  she  and  Felicia  must  leave  the  house 
and  be  dependent  upon  relatives  and  friends,  she  did  not 
seem  to  understand  what  it  meant. 

Felicia,  however,  was  fully  conscious  of  the  facts.  She 
knew  just  what  had  happened  and  why.  She  was  talking 
over  her  future  plans  with  her  cousin,  Rachel,  a  few  days 
after  the  funerals.  Mrs.  Winslow  and  Rachel  had  left 
Raymond  and  come  to  Chicago  at  once  as  soon  as  the  terri- 
ble news  had  reached  them,  and  with  other  friends  of  the 
family  they  were  planning  for  the  future  of  Rose  and 
Felicia, 

"Felicia,  you  and  Rose  must  come  to  Raymond  with 
us.  That  is  settled.  Mother  will  not  hear  to  any  other 
plan  at  present,"  Rachel  had  said,  while  her  beautiful  face 
glowed  with  love  for  her  cousin,  a  love  that  had  deepened 
day  by  day  and  was  intensified  by  the  knowledge  that  they 
both  belonged  to  the  new  discipleship. 

"T'nless  I   could  find  something  to  do  here,"  answered 


214  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

P'elieia.    She  looked  Avistfully  at  Rachel,  and  Rachel  said 
gently, 

•'What  could  you  do,  dear?" 

'•Nothing.  I  was  never  taught  to  do  anything  except 
a  little  music,  and  I  do  not  know  enough  about  it 
to  teach  it  or  earn  my  living  at  it.  I  have  learned  to  cook 
a  little,"  Felicia  answered  with  a  slight  smile. 

"Then  you  can  cook  for  us.  Mother  is  always  having 
trouble  with  her  kitchen,"  said  Rachel,  understanding  well 
enough  that  Felicia  was  thinking  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
now  dependent  for  her  verj''  food  and  shelter  upon  the 
kindness  of  family  friends. 

It  is  true  the  girls  received  a  little  something  out  of  the 
wreck  of  their  father's  fortune,  but  with  a  speculator's 
mad  folly  he  had  managed  to  involve  both  his  wife's  and 
his  children's  portions  in  the  common  ruin. 

"Can  I?  Can  I?"  Felicia  replied  to  Rachel's  proposition 
as  if  it  were  to  be  considered  seriously.  "I  am  ready  to  do 
anything  honorable  to  make  my  living  and  that  of  Rose. 
Poor  Rose!  She  will  never  be  able  to  get  over  the  shock  of 
our  trouble." 

"We  will  arrange  the  details  when  we  get  to  Ray- 
mond," Rachel  said,  smiling  through  her  tears  at  Felicia's 
eager  willingness  to  care  for  herself. 

So  in  a  few  weeks  Rose  and  Felicia  found  themselves 
a  part  of  the  Winslow  family  in  Raymond.  It  was  a  bit- 
ter experience  for  Rose,  but  there  was  nothing  else  for  her 
to  do  and  she  accepted  .the  inevitable,  brooding  over  the 
great  change  in  her  life  and  in  many  ways  adding  to  the 
burden  of  Felicia  and  her  cousin  Rachel. 

Felicia  at  once  found  herself  in  an  atmosphere  of  dis- 
eipleship  that  was  like  heaven  to  her  in  its  revelation  of 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS   DOV"  315 

companiouship.  It  is  true  that  Mrs.  Wiuslow  was  not  iu 
sympathy  with  the  course  that  Rachel  was  taldng,  but  the 
remarkable  events  since  the  pledge  had  been  taken  were  too 
powerful  in  their  results  not  to  impress  even  such  a  woman 
as  Mrs.  Winslow.  With  Rachel,  Felicia  found  a  perfect 
fellowship.  She  at  once  found  a  part  to  take  in  the  new 
work  at  the  Rectangle.  In  the  spirit  of  her  new  life  she 
insisted  upon  helping-  in  the  liousework  at  her  aunfs,  and 
in  a  short  time  demonstrated  her  ability  as  a  cook  so 
clearly  that  Virginia  suggested  that  she  take  charge  of  the 
cooking  class  at  the  Rectangle. 

Felicia  entered  upon  this  work  with  the  keenest  pleas- 
ure. For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  had  the  delight  of 
doing  something  of  value  for  the  happiness  of  others.  Her 
resolve  to  do  everything  after  asking,  "What  would  Jesus 
do?"  touched  her  deepest  nature.  She  began  to  develop  and 
strengthen  wonderfully.  Even  Mrs.  Winslow  was  obliged 
to  acknowledge  the  great  usefulness  and  beauty  of  Felicia's 
character.  The  aunt  looked  with  astonishment  upon  her 
niece,  this  city-bred  girl,  reared  In  the  greatest  luxury,  the 
daughter  of  a  millionaire,  now  walking  around  in  her 
kitchen,  her  arms  covered  with  flour  and  occasionally  a 
streak  of  it  on  her  nose  (for  Felicia  at  first  had  a  habit  of 
rubbing  her  nose  forgetfully  when  she  vras  trying  to  remem- 
ber some  recipe),  mixing  various  dishes  with  the  greatest 
interest  in  their  results,  washing  up  pans  and  kettles,  and 
doing  the  ordinary  work  of  a  servant  in  the  Winslow 
Isitchen  and  at  the  rooms  of  the  Rectangle  settlement.  At 
first  Mrs.  Winslow  remonstrated. 

"Felicia,  it  is  not  your  place  to  be  out  here  doing  this 
common  work.    I  cannot  allow  it." 

"Why,  Aunt?    Don't  you  like  the  muffins  I  made  this 


216  IN  HIS  STEPS 

morning?"  Felicia  would  ask  meekly  but  with  a  hidden 
smile,  knowing  her  aunt's  weakness  for  that  kind  of  muf- 
fin. 

"They  were  beautiful,  Felicia.  But  it  does  not  seem 
right  for  you  to  be  doing  such  Avork  for  us." 

"Why  not?    What  else  can  I  do?" 

Her  aunt  locked  at  her  thoughtfully,  noting  her  remark- 
able beauty  of  face  and  expression. 

"You  do  not  always  intend  to  do  this  kind  of  work, 
Felicia?" 

"Maybe  I  shall.  I  have  had  a  dream  of  opening  an 
ideal  cook  shop  in  Chicago  or  some  large  citj^  and  going 
around  to  the  poor  families  in  some  slum  district  like  the 
Rectangle,  teaching  the  mothers  how  to  prepare  food  prop- 
erly. I  remember  hearing  Dr.  Bruce  say  once  that  he 
believed  one  of  the  great  miseries  of  comparative  poverty 
consisted  in  poor  food.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  that 
he  thought  some  kinds  of  crime  could  be  traced  to  soggy 
biscuits  and  tough  beefsteak.  I'm  sure  I  would  be  able  to 
make  a  living  for  Rose  and  myself  and  at  the  same  time 
help  others." 

Felicia  brooded  over  this  dream  until  it  became  a  real- 
ity. Meanwhile  she  grew  into  the  affections  of  the  Ray- 
mond people  and  the  Rectangle  folks,  among  whom  she 
w^as  known  as  the  Angel  Cook.  Underneath  the  structure 
of  the  beautiful  character  she  was  growing,  always  rested 
her  promise  made  in  Nazareth  Avenue  Church. 

"What  w^ould  Jesus  do?"  She  prayed  and  hoped  and 
worked  and  planned  her  life  by  the  answer  to  that  ques- 
tion. 

It  was  the  inspiration  of  her  conduct  and  the  answer 
lo  all  her  ambition. 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  317 

Three  months  had  gone  by  since  the  Sunday  morning 
when  Dr.  Bruce  came  into  his  pulpit  with  the  message  of 
the  new  discipleship.  Never  before  had  the  Rev.  Calvin 
Bruce  realized  how  deep  the  feelings  of  his  members 
flowed.  He  humbly  confessed  that  the  appeal  he  had  made 
met  with  an  unexpected  response  from  men  and  women 
who,  like  Felicia,  were  hungry  for  something  in  their  lives 
that  the'  conventional  type  of  church  membership  and  fel- 
lowship had  failed  to  give  them. 

But  Dr.  Bruce  was  not  yet  satisfied  for  himself.  We 
cannot  tell  what  his  feeling  was  or  what  led  to  the  move- 
ment he  finally  made,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  all  who 
knew  him,  better  than  by  relating  a  conversation  between 
him  and  the  Bishop,  at  this  time  in  the  history  of 
the  pledge  in  Nazareth  Avenue  Church.  The  two  friends 
were,  as  before,  in  Dr.  Bruce' s  house,  seated  in  his  study. 

"You  know  what  I  have  come  in  this  evening  for?"  the 
Bishop  was  saying,  after  the  friends  had  been  talking  some 
time  about  the  results  of  the  pledge  with  Nazareth  Avenue 
people. 

Dr.  Bruce  looked  over  at  the  Bishop  and  shook  his 
head. 

"I  have  come  to  confess,"  went  on  the  Bishop,  "that 
I  have  not  yet  kept  my  promise  to  walk  in  His  steps  in  the 
way  that  I  believe  I  shall  be  obliged  to  if  I  satisfy  my 
thought  of  what  it  means  to  walk  in  His  steps." 

Dr.  Bruce  had  risen  and  was  pacing  his  study.  The 
Bishop  remained  in  the  deep,  easy  chair,  with  his  hands 
clasped,  but  his  eye  burned  with  the  glow  that  always 
belonged  to  him  before  he  made  some  great  resolve. 

"Edward,"  Dr.  Bruce  spoke  abruptly.  "I  have  not  yet 
been  able  to  satisfy  myself,  either,  in  obeying  my  promise. 


318  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

But  I  have  at  last  decided  on  my  course.  In  order  to  fol- 
low it,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  resign  from  Nazareth  Avenue 
Church." 

"I  l^new  you  would,"  replied  the  Bishop  quietly.  "And 
I  came  in  this  evening  to  say  that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  do 
the  same  with  my  charge." 

Dr.  Bruce  turned  and  walked  up  to  his  friend.  They 
were  both  laboring  under  repressed  excitement. 

"Is  it  necessary  in  your  case?"  asked  Bruce. 

"Yes.  Let  me  state  my  reasons.  Probably  they  are 
the  same  as  yours.  In  fact,  I  am  sure  they  are."The  Bishop 
paused  a  moment,  then  went  on  with  increasing  feeling. 

"Calvin,  you  know  how  many  years  I  have  been  doing 
the  work  of  my  position,  and  you  know  something  of  the 
responsibility  and  the  care  of  it.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that 
my  life  has  been  free  from  burden  bearing  or  sorrow.  But 
I  have  certainly  led  what  the  poor  and  desperate  of  this 
sinful  city  would  call  a  very  comfortable,  yes,  a  very  luxu- 
rious life.  I  have  a  beautiful  house  to  live  in,  the  most 
expensive  food,  clothing  and  physical  pleasures.  I  have 
been  able  to  go  abroad  at  least  a  dozen  times,  and  have 
enjoyed  for  years  the  beautiful  companionship  of  art  and 
letters  and  music  and  all  the  rest  of  the  very  best.  I  have 
never  known  what  it  meant  to  be  without  money  or  its 
equivalent.  And  I  have  been  unable  to  silence  the  ques- 
tion of  late,  'What  have  I  suffered  for  the  sake  of  Christ?' 
Paul  was  told  what  great  things  he  must  suffer  for  the 
sake  of  his  Lord.  Maxwell's  position  at  Raymond  is 
well  taken  when  he  insists  that  to  walk  in  the  steps  of 
Christ  means  to  suffer.  Where  has  my  suffering  come  in? 
The  petty  trials  and  annoyances  of  my  clerical  life  are  not 
worth  mentioning  as  sorrows  or  suffering.    Compared  with 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  219 

Paul  or  any  of  the  Christian  martyrs  or  early  disciples,  I 
have  lived  a  luxurious,  sinful  life,  full  of  ease  and  pleasure. 
I  cannot  endure  this  any  longer.  I  have  that  within  me 
which,  of  late,  rises  in  overwhelming  condemnation  of 
such  a  following  of  Jesus.  I  have  not  been  walking  in  His 
steps.  Under  the  present  system  of  church  and  social  life, 
I  see  no  escape  from  this  condemnation,  except  to  give  the 
rest  of  my  life  personally  to  the  actual  physical  and  soul 
needs  of  the  wretched  people  in  the  worst  part  of  this 
city." 

The  Bishop  had  risen  now,  and  walked  over  to  tlie 
window.  The  street  in  front  of  the  house  was  as  light  as 
day  and  he  looked  out  at  the  crowds  passing,  then  turned 
and  with  a  passionate  utterance  that  showed  how  deep-  the 
volcanic  fire  in  him  burned,  he  exclaimed,  "Calvin,  this  is  a 
terrible  city  in  which  we  live.  Its  misery,  its  sin,  its  selfish- 
ness, appall  my  heart.  And  I  have  struggled  for  years  with 
the  sickening  dread  of  the  time  when  I  should  be  forced  to 
leave  the  pleasant  luxury  of  my  official  position  to  put  my 
life  into  contact  with  the  modern  paganism  of  this  century. 
The  awful  condition  of  the  girls  in  the  great  department 
stores,  the  brutal  selfishness  of  the  insolent  society,  fashion 
and  wealth  that  ignores  all  the  sorrows  of  the  city,  the 
fearful  curse  of  the  drink  and  gambling  hell,  the  wail  of  the 
unemployed,  the  hatred  of  the  church  by  countless  men  who 
see  in  the  church  only  great  piles  of  costly  stone  and  uphol- 
stered furniture  and  the  minister  as  a  luxurious  idler,  all  the 
vast  tumult  of  this  vast  torrent  of  humanity  with  its  false 
and  its  true  ideas,  its  exaggeration  of  evils  in  the  church, 
and  its  bitterness  and  shame  that  are  the  result  of  many 
complex  causes— all  this  as  a  total  fact,  in  its  contrast  with 
the  easy,  comfortable  life  I  have  li\ed,  fills  roe  more  and 


330  TN  HIS  STEPS. 

more  with  a  sense  of  mingled  terror  and  self -accusation. 
I  have  heard  the  words  of  Jesus  many  times  lately,  "Inas- 
much as  ye  did  it  not  unto  one  of  these  least,  my  brethren, 
ye  did  it  not  to  me.'  And  when  have  I  personally  visited 
the  prisoner  or  the  desperate  or  the  sinful,  in  any  way  that 
has  actually  caused  me  suffering?  Rather,  I  have  followed 
the  conventional,  soft  habits  of  my  position  and  have  lived 
in  the  society  of  the  rich,  refined,  aristocratic  members  of 
my  congregations.  Where  has  the  suffering  come  in?  What 
have  I  suffered  for  Jesus'  sake?  Do  you  know,  Calvin," 
the  Bishop  turned  abruptly  towards  his  friend,  "I  have 
been  tempted  of  late  to  lash  myself  with  a  scourge.  If  I 
had  lived  in  Martin  Luther's  time,  I  would  have  bared  my 
back  to  a  self-inflicted  torture." 

Dr.  Bruce  was  very  pale.  Never  had  he  seen  the  Bishop 
or  heard  him  when  under  the  influence  of  such  a  passion. 
There  was  a  sudden  silence  in  the  room.  The  Bishop  had 
sat  down  again  and  bowed  his  head.  Dr.  Bruce  spoke  at 
last. 

"Edward,  I  do  not  need  to  say  that  you  have  expressed 
my  feelings  also.  I  have  been  in  a  similar  position  for 
years.  My  life  has  been  one  of  comparative  luxury. 
I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  say  that  I  have  not  had  trials 
and  discouragements  and  ^burdens  in  my  church  ministry. 
But  I  cannot  say  that  I  have  suffered  any  for  Jesus.  That 
verse  in  Peter  haunts  me:  'Christ  also  suffered  for  you, 
leaving  you  an  example  that  ye  should  follow  His  steps.' 
I  have  lived  in  luxury.  I  do  not  know  what  it  means  to 
want.  I  also  have  had  my  leisure  for  travel  and  beautiful 
companionship.  I  have  been  surrounded  by  soft,  easy 
comforts  of  civilization.  The  sin  and  misery  of  .this  great 
city  have  beat  like  waves  against  the  stone  walls  of  mv 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  221 

church  and  of  this  house  in  which  I  live,  and  I  have  hardly 
heeded  them,  the  walls  have  been  so  thiclc.  I  have  reached 
a  point  where  I  cannot  endure  this  any  longer.  I  am  not 
condemning  the  church.  I  love  her.  I  am  not  forsaking 
the  church.  I  believe  in  her  mission  and  have  no  desire 
to  destroy.  Least  of  all,  in  the  step  I  am  about  to  take, 
do  I  desire  to  be  charged  with  abandoning  the  Christian 
fellowship.  But  I  feel  I  must  resign  my  place  as  pastor  of 
Nazareth  Avenue  Church,  in  order  to  satisfy  myself  that  I 
am  walking  as  I  ought  to  walk  in  His  steps.  In  this  action 
T  judge  no  other  ministers  and  pass  no  criticism  on  others* 
discipleship.  But  I  feel  as  you  do.  Into  a  closer  contact 
with  the  sin  and  shame  and  degradation  of  this  great  city 
I  must  come  personally.  And  I  know  that  to  do  that  1 
must  sever  my  immediate  connection  with  Nazareth  Ave- 
nue Church.  I  do  not  see  any  other  way  for  myself  to  suf- 
fer for  His  sake  as  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  suffer." 

Again  that  sudden  silence  fell  over  those  two  men.  It 
was  no  ordinary  action  they  were  deciding.  They  had  both 
reached  the  same  conclusion  by  the  same  reasoning,  and 
they  were  too  thoughtful,  too  well  accustomed  to  the  meas- 
uring of  conduct  to  underestimate  the  seriousness  of  their 
position. 

"What  is  your  plan?"  The  Bishop  at  last  spoke  gently, 
looking  up  with  his  smile  that  always  beautified  his  face. 
The  Bishop's  face  grew  in  glory  now  every  day. 

"My  plan,"  replied  Dr.  Bruce  slowly,  "is,  in  brief,  the 
putting  of  myself  into  the  center  of  the  greatest  human 
need  I  can  find  in  this  city  and  living  there.  My  wife  is 
fully  in  accord  with  me.  We  have  already  decided  to  find 
a  residence  in  that  part  of  the  city  where  we  can  make  our 
personal  lives  count  for  the  most." 


223  IN  HIS  STEPS 

"Let  me  suggest  a  place."  The  Bishop  was  on  fire  now. 
His  fine  face  actually  glowed  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
movement  in  which  he  and  his  friend  were  inevitably 
embarked.  He  went  on  and  unfolded  a  plan  of  such  far- 
reaching  power  and  possibility  that  Dr.  Bruce,  capable  and 
experienced  as  he  was,  felt  amazed  at  the  vision  of  a 
greater  soul  than  his  own. 

They  sat  up  late  and  were  as  eager  and  even  glad  as  if 
they  were  planning  for  a  trip  together  to  some  rare  land  of 
unexplored  travel.  Indeed,  the  Bishop  said  many  times 
afterwardSjthat  the  moment  his  decision  was  reached  to 
live  the  life  of  personal  sacrifice  he  had  chosen,  he  suddenly 
felt  an  uplifting  as  if  a  great  burden  was  talien  from  him. 
He  was  exultant.    So  was  Dr.  Bruce  from  the  same  cause. 

Their  plan  as  it  finally  grew  into  a  workable  fact  was 
in  reality  nothing  more  than  the  renting  of  a  large  building 
formerly  used  as  a  warehouse  for  a  brewery,  reconstructing 
it  and  living  in  it  themselves  in  the  very  heart  of  a  territory 
where  the  saloon  ruled  with  power,  where  the  tenement 
was  its  filthiest,  where  vice  and  ignorance  and  shame  and 
poverty  were  congested  into  hideous  forms.  It  was  not 
a  new  idea.  It  was  an  idea  started  by  Jesus  Christ  when 
He  left  His  Father's  house  and  forsook  the  riches  that  were 
His  in  order  to  get  nearer  humanity  and,  by  becoming  a  part 
of  its  sin,  helping  to  draw  humanity  apart  from  its  sin. 
The  University  Settlement  idea  is  not  modern.  It  is  as  old 
as  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth.  And  in  this  particular  case  it 
was  the  nearest  approach  to  anything  that  would  satisfy 
the  hunger  of  these  two  men  to  suffer  for  Christ.  There 
had  sprung  up  in  them  at  the  same  time,  a  longing  that 
amounted  to  a  passion,  to  get  nearer  the  great  physical 
poverty  and  spiritual  destitution  of  the  mighty  city  that 


"WHAT    WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  223 

throbbed  around  them.  How  could  they  do  this  except  as 
they  became  a  part  of  it,  as  nearly  as  one  man  can  become 
a  part  of  another's  misery?  Where  was  the  suffering  to 
come  in,  unless  there  was  an  actual  self-denial  of  some 
sort?  And  what  was  to  make  that  self-denial  apparent  to 
themselves  or  any  one  else,  unless  it  took  this  concrete, 
actual,  personal  form  of  trying  to  share  the  deepest  suffer- 
ing and  sin  of  the  city? 

So  they  reasoned  for  themselves,  not  judging  others. 
They  were  simply  keeping  their  own  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus 
would  do,  as  they  honestly  judged  He  would  do.  That  was 
what  they  had  promised.  How  could  they  quarrel  with  the 
result,  if  they  were  irresistibly  compelled  to  do  what  they 
were  planning  to  do? 

The  Bishop  had  money  of  his  own.  Every  one  in  Chi- 
cago knew  that  the  Bishop  had  a  handsome  fortune.  Dr. 
Bruce  had  acquired  and  saved,  by  literary  work  carried  on 
in  connection  with  his  parish  duties,  more  than  a  comforta- 
ble competence.  This  money,  a  large  part  of  it,  the  two 
friends  agreed  to  put  at  once  into  the  work,  most  of  it  into 
the  furnishing  of  a  Settlement  House. 

Meanwhile  Nazareth  Avenue  Church  was  experiencing 
something  never  known  before  in  all  its  history.  The  simple 
appeal  on  the  part  of  its  pastor  to  his  members,  to  do  as 
Jesus  would  do,  had  created  a  sensation  that  still  contin- 
ued. The  result  of  that  appeal  was  very  much  the  same 
as  in  Henry  Maxwell's  church  in  Raymond,  only  Nazareth 
Avenue  Church  was  far  more  aristocratic,  wealthy  and  con- 
ventional. Nevertheless,  when  one  Sunday  morning  in 
early  summer  Dr.  Bruce  came  into  his  pulpit  and  announced 
his  resignation,  the  sensation  deepened  all  over  the  city, 
although  Dr.  Bruce  had  advised  with  his  board  of  trustees 


224  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

and  the  movement  he  intended  was  not  a  matter  of  surprise 
to  them. 

But  when  it  became  publicly  known  that  the  Bishop 
also  had  announced  his  retirement  from  the  position  he 
had  held  so  long,  in  order  to  go  and  live  himself  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  worst  part  of  Chicago,  the  public  astonishment 
reached  its  height. 

"But  why—"  the  Bishop  replied  to  one  valued  friend 
who  had  almost  with  tears  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  his 
purpose,  "Why  should  what  Dr.  Bruce  and  I  propose  to  do, 
seem  so  remarkable  a  thing,  as  if  it  were  unheard-of  that 
a  Doctor  of  Divinity  and  a  Bishop  should  want  to  save 
souls  in  this  particular  manner?  If  we  were  to  resign  our 
charges  for  the  purpose  of  going  to  Bombay  or  Hong  Kong 
or  any  place  in  Africa, the  churches  and  the  people  would 
exclaim  at  the  heroism  of  missions.  Why  should  it  seem 
so  great  a  thing,  if  we  have  been  led  to  give  our  lives  to 
help  rescue  the  heathen  and  the  lost  of  our  own  city,  in  the 
way  we  are  going  to  try?  Is  it  then  such  a  tremendous 
event  that  two  Christian  ministers  should  be  not  only 
willing  but  eager  to  live  close  to  the  misery  of  the  world, 
in  order  to  know  it  and  realize  it?  Is  it  such  a  rare  thing 
that  love  of  humanity  should  find  this  particular  form  of 
expression  in  the  rescue  of  souls?" 

However  the  Bishop  may  have  satisfied  himself  that 
there  ought  to  be  nothing  so  remarkable  about  it  all,  the 
public  continued  to  talk  and  the  churches  to  record  their 
astonishment  that  two  such  men,  so  prominent  in  the  min- 
istry, should  leave  their  comfortable  homes,  voluntarily 
resign  their  pleasant  social  positions  and  enter  upon  a  life 
of  hardship,  of  self-denial  and  actual  suffering.  Christian 
America!    Is  it  a  reproach  upon  the  form  of  our  disciple- 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  225 

ship  that  the  exhibition  of  actual  suffering  for  Jesus  on  the 
part  of  those  who  walk  in  His  steps  always  provokes  aston- 
ishment, as  at  the  sight  of  something  very  unusual? 

Nazareth  Avenue  Church  parted  from  its  pastor  with 
regret  for  the  most  part,  although  the  regret  Was  modified 
by  some  relief  on  the  part  of  those  who  had  refused  to  take 
the  pledge.  Dr.  Bruce  carried  with  him  the  respect  of  men 
who,  entangled  in  business  in  such  a  way  that  obedience  to 
the  pledge  would  have  ruined  them,  still  held  in  their 
deeper,  better  natures  a  genuine  admiration  for  courage 
and  consistency.  They  had  known  Dr.  Bruce  many  years 
as  a  kindly,  safe  man;  but  the  thought  of  him  in  the  light 
of  sacrifice  of  this  sort  was  not  familiar  to  them.  .As  fast 
as  they  understood  it,  they  gave  their  pastor  the  credit  of 
being  absolutely  true  to  his  recent  convictions  as  to  what 
following  Jesus  meant.  Nazareth  Avenue  Church  has 
never  lost  the  impulse  of  that  movement  started  by  Dr. 
Bruce.  Those  who  went  with  him  in  making  the  promise 
breathed  into  the  church  the  very  breath  of  divine  life  and 
are  continuing  that  life-giving  work  at  the  present  time. 

It  was  fall  again,  and  the  city  faced  another  hard  win- 
ter. The  Bishop  one  afternoon  came  out  of  the  Settle- 
ment and  walked  around  the  block,  intending  to  go  on  a 
visit  to  one  of  his  new  friends  in  the  district;  he  had 
walked  about  four  blocks,  when  he  was  attracted  by  a  shop 
that  looked  different  from  the  others.  The  neighborhood 
was  still  quite  new  to  the  Bishop,  and  every  day  he  dis- 
covered some  strange  spot  or  stumbled  upon  some  unex- 
pected humanity. 

The  place  that  attracted  his  notice  was  a  small  house 
close  by  a  Chinese  laundry.  There  were  two  windows  in 
the  front,  very  clean,  and  that  was  remarkable  to  begin 


226  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

with.  Then  inside  the  window  was  a  tempting  display  of 
.eookery,  with  prices  attached  to  the  various  articles,  that 
made  the  Bishop  wonder  somewhat,  for  he  was  familiar 
by  this  time  with  many  facts  in  the  life  of  the  people 
once  unknown  to  him. 

As  he  stood  looking  at  the  windows,  the  door  between 
them  opened  and  Felicia  Sterling  came  out. 

"Felicia !"said  the  Bishop.  "When  did  you  move  into 
my  parish  without  my  knowledge?" 

"How  did  you  find  me  so  soon?"  asked  B^elicia. 

"Why,  don't  you  know?  These  are  the  only  clean  win- 
dows in  the  block." 

"I  believe  they  are,"  replied  Felicia  with  a  laugh  that 
did  the  Bishop  good  to  hear. 

"But  why  have  you  dared  to  come  to  Chicago  without 
telling  me,  and  how  have  you  entered  my  diocese  without 
my  knowledge?"  asked  the  Bishop.  And  Felicia  looked  so 
like  that  beautiful,  clean,  educated,  refined  w^orld  he  once 
knew,  that  he  might  be  pardoned  for  seeing  in  her  some- 
thing of  the  old  Paradise.  xUthough,  to  speak  truth  for 
the  Bishop,  he  had  no  desire  to  go  back  to  it  again. 

"Well,  dear  Bishop,"  said  Felicia  who  had  always 
called  him  so  whenever  they  had  met,  "I  knew  how  over- 
whelmed you  were  with  your  work.  I  did  not  want  to 
burden  you  with  my  plans.  And  besides,  I  am  going  to 
offer  you  my  services.  Indeed,  I  was  just  on  my  way  to 
see  you  and  ask  your  advice.  I  am  settled  here  for  the  pres- 
ent with  Mrs.  Bascom,  a  saleswoman  who  rents  our  three 
rooms,  and  with  one  of  Rachel's  music  pupils,  who  is  being 
helped  to  a  course  in  violin  by  Virginia  Page.  She  is  from 
the  people,"  continued  Felicia,  using  the  words,  "from  the 
people,"  so  gravely  and  unconsciously     that    the    Bishoi) 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  337 

smiled,  "and  I  am  keeping  liouse  for  lier  and,  at  the  same 
time,  beginning  an  experiment  in  pure  food  for  the  masses. 
I  am  an  expert  and  I  have  a  plan  I  want  you  to  admire  and 
develop.     Will  j^ou,  dear  Bishop?" 

"Indeed,  I  will,"  replied  the  Bishop.  The  sight  of  Fe- 
licia and  her  remarkable  vitalitj^  enthusiasm  and  evident 
purpose  almost  bewildered  him. 

"Martha  can  help  at  the  Settlement  with  her  violin 
and  I  will  help  with  my  messes.  You  see,  I  thought  I  would 
get  settled  first  and  work  out  something  and  then  come 
with  some  real  thing  to  offer.  I'm  able  to  earn  my  own  liv- 
ing now." 

"You  are?"  The  Bishop  said  it  a  little  incredulously. 
"How?    Making  those  things?" 

"'Those  things'!"  said  Felicia  with  a  show  of  indigna- 
tion. "I  would  have  you  know  sir,  that  'those  things'  are 
the  best  cooked,  purest  food-products  in  this  whole  city." 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  the  Bishop  hastily,  while  his 
eyes  twinkled.  "Still,  'the  proof  of  the  pudding,'— you  know 
the  rest." 

"Come  in  and  try  some,"  exclaimed  Felicia.  "You  poor 
Bishop!  You  look  as  if  you  hadn't  had  a  good  meal  for  a 
month." 

She  insisted  on  the  Bishop's  entering  the  little  front 
room  where  Martha,  a  wide-awake  girl  with  short  curly 
hair  and  an  unmistakable  air  of  music  about  her,  was 
busy  with  practice. 

"Go  right  on,  Martha.  This  is  the  Bishop.  You  have 
heard  me  speak  of  him  so  often.  Sit  down  there  and  let 
me  give  you  a  taste  of  the  flesh  pots  of  Egypt,  for  I  believe 
you  have  been  actually  fasting." 

So  Felicia  and  the  Bishop  had  an  improvised  lunch,  and 


228  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

the  Bishop,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  had  not  taken  time  for 
weeks  to  enjoy  his  meals,  feasted  on  the  delight  of  his 
unexpected  discovery  and  was  able  to  express  his  astonish- 
ment and  gratification  at  the  quality  of  the  cookery. 

"I  thought  you  would,  at  least,  say  it  was  as  good  as 
the  meal*  you  used  to  get  at  the  Auditorium,  at  the  big 
banquets,"  said  Felicia  slyly. 

"  'As  good  as!'  The  Auditorium  banquets  were  simply 
husks,  compared  to  this  one,  Felicia.  But  you  must  come 
to  the  Settlement.  I  want  you  to  see  what  we  are  doing. 
And  I  am  simply  astonished  to  find  you  here,  earning  your 
living  this  way.  I  begin  to  see  what  your  plan  is.  You  can 
be  of  infinite  help  to  us.  You  don't  really  mean  that  you  will 
live  here  and  help  these  people  to  know  the  value  of  good 
food?" 

"Indeed,  I  do,"  Felicia  answered  gravely.  "That  is  my 
gospel.     Shall  I  not  follow  it?" 

"Aye!  Aye!  You're  right.  Bless  God  for  sense  like 
yours.  When  I  left  the  world,"  (the  Bishop  smiled  at  the 
phrase),  "they  were  talking  a  good  deal  about  the  'new 
woman.'  If  you  are  one  of  them,  I  am  a  convert  right  now 
and  here." 

Flattery  still!  Is  there  no  escape  from  it,  even  in 
the  slums  of  Chicago?"  Felicia  laughed  again.  And  the 
Bishop's  heart,  heavy  though  it  had  grown  during  several 
mouths  of  vast  sin-bearing,  rejoiced  to  hear  it .  It  sounded 
good.    It  was  good.    It  belonged  to  God. 

Felicia  wanted  to  visit  the  Settlement  and  went  back 
with  the  Bishop.  She  was  amazed  at  the  results  of  what 
considerable  money  and  a  good  deal  of  consecrated  brains 
had  done.  As  they  walked  through  the  building  they 
talked  incessantly.    Felicia  Avas   tlie    incarnation    of    vital 


''WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  229 

enthusiasm.  Even  the  Bishop  wondered  at  the  exhibition 
of  it,  as  it  bubbled  up  and  sparliled  over. 

They  went  down  into  the  basement  and  the  Bishop 
pushed  open  the  door,  from  behind  ^hieh  came  the  sound 
of  a  carpenter's  plane.  It  was  a  small  but  well-equipped 
carpenter's  shop.  A  young  man  with  a  paper  cap  on 
his  head  and  clad  in  blouse  and  overalls  was  whistling, 
and  driving  the  plane  as  he  whistled.  He  loolvod  up  as  the 
Bishop  and  Felicia  entered  and  took  off  his  cap.  As  he  did 
so,  his  little  finger  carried  a  small,  curling  shaving  up  to  his 
Iiair,  and  it  caught  there. 

"Miss  Sterling,  Mr.  'Stephen  Clyde,"  said  the  Bishop. 
"Clyde  is  one  of  our  helpers  here  two  afternoons  in  the 
week." 

Just  then  the  Bishop  was  called  up-stairs,  and  he 
excused  himself  for  a  moment,  leaving  Felicia  and  the 
young  carpenter  together. 

"We  have  met  before,"  said  Felicia,  looking  at  Clyde 
frankly. 

"Yes,  'back  in  the  world,'  as  the  Bishop  says,"  replien 
the  young  man,  and  his  fingers  trembled  a  little  as  they  lay 
on  the  board  he  had  been  planing. 

"Yes."    Felicia  hesitated.    "I  am  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"Are  you?"  The  flush  of  pleasure  mounted  to  the 
young  carpenter's  forehead.  "You  have  had  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  since— then?"  he  said,  and  then  he  was  afraid 
he  had  wounded  her,  or  called  up  painful  memories.  But 
Felicia  had  lived  over  all  that. 

"Yes,  and  you  also.    How  is  it  you  are  working  here?" 

"It  is  a  long  story,  Miss  Sterling.  My  father  lost  his 
money  and  I  was  obliged  to  go  to  work.  A  very  good  thing 
for  me.    The  Bishop  snys  I   ought  to  be  grateful.    I   am. 


230  IN   HIS  STEPS 

1  am  very  happy  now.  I  learned  the  trade  hoping  some- 
time to  be  of  use.  I  am  night  clerk  at  one  of  the  hotels. 
That  Sunday  morning  vi'hen  you  took  the  pledge  at  ^Naza- 
reth Avenue  Church,  I  took  it  with  the  others." 

"Did  you?"  said  Felicia  slowly.    "I  am  glad." 

.lust  then  the  Bishop  came  back,  and  very  soon  he  and 
Felicia  went  away,  leaving  the  young  carpenter  at  his 
work.  Some  one  noticed  that  he  whistled  louder  than  ever 
as  he  planed. 

"Felicia,"  said  the  Bishop,  "Did  j^ou  know  Stephen 
Clyde  before?" 

"Yes,  'back  in  the  world,'  dear  Bishop;  he  was  one  of 
my  acquaintances  in  Nazareth  Avenue  Church." 

"Ah!"  said  the  Bishop. 

"We  were  very  good  friends,"  added  Felicia. 

"But  nothing  more?"  the  Bishop  ventured  to  ask. 

Felicia's  face  glowed  for  an  instant.  Then  she  looked 
the  Bishop  in  the  eyes  frankly  and  answered, 

"Truly  and  truly,  nothing  more." 

"It  would  be  just  the  way  of  the  world  for  those  two 
people  to  come  to  like  each  other,  though,"  thought  the 
Bishop  to  himself,  and  somehow  the  thought  made  him 
grave.  It  was  almost  like  the  old  pang  over  Camilla.  But 
it  passed,  leaving  him  afterwards,  when  Felicia  had  gone 
back,  with  tears  in  his  eyes  and  a  feeling  that  was  almost 
hope  that  Felicia  and  Stephen  Avould  like  each  other. 
"After  all,"  said  the  Bishop,  like  the  sensible  good  man 
that  he  was,  "is  not  romance  a  part  of  humanity?  Love 
is  older  than  I  am  and  wiser." 

The  week  following,  the  Bishop  had  an  experience  that 
belongs  to  this  part  of  the  Settlement's  history. 

He  was  coming  back  to  the  Settlement  very  late  from 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  281 

some  gathering  of  the  striking  tailors  and  was  walking 
along  with  his  hands  behind  him,  when  two  men  jumped 
out  from  behind  an  old  fence  that  shut  off  an  abandoned 
factory  from  the  street,  and  faced  him.  One  of  the  men 
thrust  a  pistol  into  the  Bishop's  face  and  the  other  threat- 
ened him  with  a  ragged  stake  that  had  evidently  been  torn 
from  the  fence. 

"Hold  up  your  hands,  and  be  quick  about  it!"  said  the 
man  with  the  pistol. 

The  place  was  solitary  and  the  Bishop  had  no  thought  of 
resistance.  He  did  as  he  was  commanded,  and  the  man 
with  the  stake  began  to  go  through  his  pockets.  The  Bishop 
was  calm.  His  nerves  did  not  quiver.  As  he  stood  there 
with  his  arms  uplifted,  an  ignorant  spectator  might  have 
thought  that  he  was  praying  for  the  souls  of  these  two 
men.  And  he  was.  And  his  prayer  was  singularly 
answered  that  very  night. 


CHAPTER  XL 


"Kighteousness  shall  go  before  Him,  and  shall  set  us  in  the 

way  of  His  Steps." 

The  Bishop  was  not  in  the  habit  of  carrying  much 
mouej'  with  him  and  the  man  with  the  stake,  who  was 
searching  him,  uttered  an  oath  at  the  small  amount  of 
change  he  found.  As  he  uttered  it,  the  man  with  the  pistol 
savagely  said,  "Jerk  out  his  watch!  We  might  as  well  get 
all  we  can  out  of  the  job!" 

The  man  with  the  stake  was  on  the  point  of  laying  hold 
of  the  chain  when  there  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  coming 
towards  them. 

"Get  behind  the  fence!  We  haven't  half  searched  him 
yet.    Mind  you  keep  shut  now,  if  you  don't  want—" 

The  man  with  the  pistol  made  a  significant  gesture  with 
it  and  his  companion  pulled  and  pushed  the  Bishop  down 
the  alley  and  through  a  ragged  broken  opening  in  the 
fence.  The  three  stood  still  there  in  the  shadow  until  the 
footsteps  passed. 

"Now,  then,  have  you  got  the  watch?"  asked  the  man 
with  tlie  pistol. 

"No,  the  chain  is  caught  somewhere!"  And  the  other 
man  swore  again. 

"Break  it  then!" 

"No,  don't  break  it,"  the  Bishop  said,  and  it  was  the  first 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  233 

time  he  had  spoken.  "The  chain  is  the  gift  of  a  very  dear 
friend.    I  should  be  sorry  to  have  it  brol^en." 

At  the  sound  of  the  Bishop's  voice,  the  man  with  tlie 
pistol  started,  as  if  he  had  been  suddenly  shot  by  his  own 
weapon.  With  a  quiclv  movement  of  his  other  hand  he 
turned  the  Bishop's  head  towards  Avhat  little  light  was 
shining  from  the  alley  way,  at  the  same  time  taking  a 
step  nearer.  Then  to  the  evident  amazement  of  his  com- 
panion he  said  roughly, 

"Leave  the  watch  alone  I  We've  got  the  money.  That's 
enough  1" 

"Enough!    Fifty  cents!    You  don't  reckon—" 

Before  the  man  with  the  stake  could  say  another  word, 
he  was  confronted  with  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol,  turned 
from  the  Bishop's  head  towards  his  own. 

"Leave  that  watch  be!  And  put  back  the  money,  too. 
This  is  the  Bishop  we've  held  up!  The  Bishop,  do  you 
hear?" 

"And  what  of  it!  The  President  of  the  United  States 
wouldn't  be  too  good  to  hold  up,  if—" 

"I  say,  you  put  the  money  back,  or  in  five  minutes  I'll 
blow  a  hole  through  your  head  that'll  let  in  more  sense 
than  you  have  to  spare  now,"  said  the  other. 

For  a  second  the  man  with  the  stake  seemed  to  hesitate 
at  this  strange  turn  in  events,  as  if  measuring  his  com- 
panion's intention.  Then  he  hastily  dropped  the  money 
back  into  the  Bishop's  pock?t. 

"You  can  take  your  hands  down,  sir."  The  man  with 
the  weapon  lowered  it  slowly,  still  keeping  an  eye  on  the 
other  man,  and  speaking  with  rough  respect.  The  Bishop 
slowly  brought  his  arms  to  his  side  and  looked  earnostly  at 
the  two  men.    In  the  dim  light  it  was  difficult  to  distin.irnish 


234  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

features.  He  was  evidently  free  to  go  his  way  now,  but  he 
stood  there,  making  no  movement. 

"You  can  go  on.  You  needn't  stay  any  longer  on  our 
account."  The  man  who  had  acted  as  spoliesman  turned 
and  sat  down  on  a  stone.  The  other  man  stood  viciously 
digging  his  stake  into  the  ground. 

"That's  just  what  I'm  staying  for,"  replied  the  Bishop. 
He  sat  down  on  a  board  that  projected  from  the  broken 
fence. 

"You  must  hke  our  company.  It  is  hard  sometimes  for 
people  to  tear  themselves  away  from  us,"  the  man  standing 
up  said,  laughing  coarsely. 

"Shut  up!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "We're  on  the  road  to 
hell  though,  that's  sure  enough.  We  need  better  company 
than  ourselves  and  the  devil." 

"If  you  would  only  allow  me  to  be  of  any  help—"  the 
Bishop  spoke  gently,  even  lovingly.  The  man  on  the  stone 
stared  at  the  Bishop  through  the  darkness.  After  a  moment 
of  silence,  he  spoke  slowly,  like  one  who  had  finally  decided 
upon  a  course  he  had  at  first  rejected. 

"Do  j'ou  remember  ever  seeing  me  before?" 

"No,"  said  the  Bishop.  "The  light  is  not  very  good  and 
I  have  I'eally  not  had  a  good  look  at  you." 

"Do  you  know  me  now?"  The  man  suddenly  took  oft' 
his  hat  and  getting  up  from  the  stone  walked  over  to  the 
Bishop,  until  they  were  near  enough  to  touch  each  other. 

The  man's  hair  was  coal  black,  except  one  spot  on  the 
top  of  his  head  about  as  large  as  the  palm  of  the  hand, 
which  was  white. 

The  minute  the  Bishop  saw  that,  he  started.  The  mem- 
ory of  fifteen  years  ago  began  to  stir  in  him.  The  man 
helped  him. 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  285 

"Don't  you  remember  one  day  back  in  'SI  or  '2,  a  man 
came  to  your  house  and  told  a  story  about  his  wife  and 
child  having  been  burned  to  death  in  a  tenement  fire  in 
New  York?" 

"Yes,  I  begin  to  recall  now,"  murmured  the  Bishop. 
The  other  man  seemed  to  be  interested.  He  ceased  digging' 
his  stake  in  the  ground  and  stood  still,  listening. 

"Do  you  remember  how  you  took  me  into  your  own 
house  that  night  and  spent  all  next  day  trying  to  find  me 
a  job?  And  how,  when  you  succeeded  in  getting  me  a  place 
in  a  warehouse  as  foreman,  I  promised  to  quit  drinking, 
because  you  asked  me  to?" 

"I  remember  it  now,"  the  Bishop  rei)lit'd  gently.  I 
hope  you  have  kept  your  promise." 

The  man  laughed  savagely.  Then  he  struck  his  hand 
against  the  fence  with  such  sudden  passion  tliat  he  drew 
blood. 

"Kept  iti  I  was  drunk  inside  of  a  week.  I've  been 
drinking  ever  since.  But  I've  never  forgotten  j'ou  or  your 
prayer.  Do  you  remember,  the  morning  after  I  came  to 
your  house,  and  after  breakfast  you  had  prayers  and  asked 
me  to  come  in  and  sit  with  the  rest?  That  got  mel  But 
my  mother  used  to  pray!  I  can  see  her  now,  kneeling  down 
by  my  bed  when  I  was  a  lad.  Father  came  in  one  night 
drunk  and  kicked  her,  while  she  was  kneeling  there  by 
me.  But  I  never  forgot  that  prayer  of  yours  that  morning. 
You  prayed  for  me  just  as  Mother  used  to,  and  you  didn't 
seem  to  take  count  of  the  fact  that  I  was  ragged  and 
tough  looking  and  more  than  half  drunk  when  I  rung  your 
door-bell.  My  God!  What  a  life  I've  lived!  The  saloon 
has  housed  me  and  homed  me  and  made  hell  on  earth  for 
me!    But  that  prayer  stuck  to  me  all  the  time.    My  promise 


286  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

not  to  drink  was  broken  into  a  thousand  pieces  inside  of 
two  Sundays,  and  I  lost  the  job  you  found  for  me  and  landed 
in  a  police  station  two  days  afterwards;  but  I  never  forgot 
you  or  your  prayer.  I  don't  know  what  good  it's  done  me, 
but  I  never  forgot  it.  And  I  won't  do  any  harm  to  you  nor 
let  any  one  else.    So  you're  free  to  go.    That's  why." 

The  Bishop  did  not  stir.  Somewhere  a  church  clock 
struck  one.  The  man  had  put  on  his  hat  and  gone  back  to 
his  seat  on  the  stone.    The  Bishop  was  thinking  hard. 

"How  long  is  it  since  you  had  work?"'  he  asked,  and 
the  man  standing  up  answered  for  the  other. 

"More'n  six  months  since  either  of  us  did  anything  to 
tell  of.  Unless  you  count  holding-up  work.  I  call  it  pretty 
Avearing  kind  of  a  job  myself,  especially  when  we  put  in  a 
night  like  this  one  and  don't  make  nothin'." 

"Suppose  I  found  good  jobs  for  both  of  you.  Would  you 
quit  this  and  begin  all  over?" 

"What's  the  use?"  the  man  on  the  stone  spoke  sullenly. 
"I've  reformed  a  hundred  times.  Every  time  I  go  down 
deeper.  The  devil's  begun  to  foreclose  on  me  already.  It's 
too  late!'* 

"No!"  said  the  Bishop.  And  never  before  the  most 
entranced  audiences  had  he  felt  the  desire  for  souls  burn 
up  in  him  so  strongly.  All  the  time  he  sat  there  during 
the  remarkable  scene,  he  prayed,  "O  Lord  Jesus,  give  me 
the  souls  of  these  two  for  Thee!  I  am  hungry  for  them! 
Give  them  to  me!" 

"No!"  the  Bishop  repeated.  "What  does  God  want  of 
you  two  men?  It  doesn't  so  much  matter  what  I  want. 
But  He  wants  just  what  I  do  in  this  case.  You  two  men 
are  of  infinite  value  to  Him."  And  then  the  Bishop's  won- 
derful memory  came  to  his  aid,  in  an  appeal  such  as  no  one 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  2537 

else  on  earth,  among  men,  could  make  under  such  circiim 
stances.  He  had  remembered  the  man's  name,  in  spite  of 
the  wonderfully  busy  years  that  lay  between  his  coming 
to  the  house  and  the  present  moment. 

"Burns,"  he  said— and  he  yearned  over  the  men  with 
an    unspeakable    longing    for   them     both— "if     you     and 
your  friend  here  will  go  home  with  me  to-night,  I  will  find 
you  both  places  of  honorable  employment.    I  will  believe 
in  you  and  trust  you.    You  are  both  comparatively  young 
men.    Why  should  God  lose  you?    It  is  a  great  thing  to 
win  the  love  of  the  great  Father.    It  is  a  small' thing  that 
I  should  love  you.    But  if  you  need  to  feel  again  that  there 
is  love  in  the  world,  you  will  believe  me  when  I  say,  my 
brothers,  that  I  love  you  and  in  the  name  of  Him  who  was 
crucified  for  our  sins,  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  miss  the 
glory  of  the  human  life!    Come!    Be  men!    Make  another 
try  for  it,  God  helping  you!    No  one  but  God  and  you  and 
myself  need  ever  know  anything  of  this  to-night.    He  has 
forgiven  it.    The  minute  you  ask  Him  to,  you  will  find  that 
true.    Come!    We'll  fight  it  out  together— you  two  and  1. 
It's  worth  fighting  for.    Everlasting  life  is.    It  was  the  sin- 
ner that  Christ  came  to  help.    I'll  do  what  I  can  for  you. 
O  God!    Give  me  the  souls  of  these  two  men!"   The  Bishoii 
broke  into  a  prayer  to  God  that  was  a  continuation  of  his 
appeal  to  the  men.    His  pent-up  feeling  had  no,  other  out- 
let.   Before  he  had  prayed  many  moments.  Burns  was  sit- 
ting with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,   sobbing.    Where 
were  his  mother's  prayers  now?    They  were  adding  to  the 
power  of  the  Bishop's.    And  the  other  man,  harder,  less 
moved, without  a  previous  knowledge  of  the  Bishop,  leaned 
back  against  the  fence,  stolid  at  first.      But  as  the  prayer 
went  on,  he  was  moved  by  it.    What  force  of  the  Holy 


338  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

Spirit  swept  over  his  dulled,  brutal,  coarsened  life,  nothing 
but  the  eternal  records  of  the  Recording  Angel  can  ever 
disclose.  But  that  same  supernatural  Presence  that  smote 
Paul  on  the  road  to  Damascus  and  poured  through  Henry 
Maxwell's  church  the  morning  he  asked  disciples  to  follow 
in  Jesus'  steps,  and  had  again  broken  irresistibly  over  the 
Nazareth  Avenue  congregation,  now  manifested  Himself 
in  this  foul  corner  of  the  mighty  city  and  over  the  natures 
of  these  two  sinful,  sunken  men  apparently  lost  to  all  the 
pleadings  of  conscience  and  memory  of  God.  The  Bishop's 
prayer  seemed  to  break  open  the  crust  that  had  for  years 
surrounded  these  two  men  and  shut  them  oE  from  divine 
communication.  And  they  themselves  were  thoroughly 
startled  by  the  event. 

The  Bishop  ceased,  and  at  first  he,  himself,  did  not  realize 
what  had  happened.  Neither  did  the  two  men.  Burns  still 
sat  with  his  head  bowed  between  his  hands.  The  man  lean- 
ing against  the  fence  looked  at  the  Bishop  with  a  face  in 
which  new  emotions  of  awe,  repentance,  astonishment  and 
a  broken  gleam  of  joy  struggled  for  expression. 

The  Bishop  rose. 

"Come,  my  brothers!  God  is  good.  You  shall  stay  at 
the  Settlement  to-night.  And  I  will  make  good  my  promise 
as  to  the  work." 

The  two  men  followed  the  Bishop  in  silence.  When 
they  reached  the  Settlement,  it  was  after  two  o'clock.  The 
Bishop  let  them  in  and  led  them  to  a  room.  At  the  door, 
he  paused  a  moment.  His  tall,  commanding  figure  stood 
in  the  doorway,  and  his  pale  face,  worn  with  his  recent 
experiences,  was  illuminated  with  the  divine  glory. 

"God  bless  you,  my  brothers,"  he  said,  and  leavinci 
them  his  benediction,  he  went  away. 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  239 

In  the  morning,  he  almost  dreaded  to  face  the  men.  But 
the  impression  of  the  night  had  not  worn  away.  True  to 
his  promise,  the  Bishop  secured  worli  for  them.  The  jani- 
tor at  the  Settlement  needed  an  assistant,  owing  to  the 
growth  of  the  work  there.  So  Burns  was  given  the  place. 
The  Bishop  succeeded  in  getting  his  companion  a  position 
as  driver  for  a  firm  of  warehouse  dray  manufacturers  not 
far  from  the  Settlement.  And  the  Holy  Spirit  struggling 
in  these  tAvo  darkened,  sinful  men  began  his  marvelous 
work  of  regeneration. 

It  was  the  afternoon  following  that  morning  when 
Burns  was  installed  in  his  new  position  as  assistant  janitor 
that  he  was  cleaning  off  the  front  steps  of  the  Settlement, 
when  he  paused  a  moment  and  stood  up  to  look  about  him. 

The  first  thing  he  noticed  was  a  beer  sign  just  across 
the  alley.  He  could  almost  touch  it  with  his  broom  from 
where  he  stood.  Over  the  street,  immediately  opposite, 
were  two  large  saloons  and  a  little  farther  down  were 
three  more. 

Suddenly  the  door  of  the  nearest  saloon  opened  and  a 
man  came  out.  At  the  same  time,  two  more  went  in.  A 
strong  odor  of  beer  floated  up  to  Burns,  as  he  stood  on  the 
steps  of  the  Settlement. 

He  clutched  his  broom  handle  tight  and  began  to  swec}) 
egain.  He  had  one  foot  on  the  porch  and  another  on  the 
step  just  below.  He  took  another  step  down,  still  sweep- 
ing. The  sweat  stood  out  on  his  forehead,  although  the  day 
was  frosty  and  the  air  chill.  The  saloon  door  opened  again 
and  three  or  four  men  came  out.  A  child  went  in  with  a 
pail  and  came  out  a  moment  later  with  a  quart  of  beer. 
Tho  oliild  wont  by  on  the  sidewalk  just  below  him  and  tlio 


240  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

odor  of  the  beer  came  up  to  him.  He  took  another  step 
down,  still  sweeping  desperately.  His  fingers  were  purple 
as  he  clutched  the  handle  of  the  broom. 

Then  suddenly  he  pulled  himself  up  one  step  and  swept 
over  the  spot  he  had  just  cleaned.  He  then  dragged  him- 
self by  a  tremendous  effort  back  to  the  floor  of  the  porch 
and  went  over  into  the  corner  of  it  farthest  from  the 
saloon  and  began  to  sw^eep  there.  "O  God!"  he  cried,  "if 
the  Bishop  would  only  come  back!"  The  Bishop  had  gone 
out  with  Dr.  Bruce  somewhere,  and  there  was  no  one  about 
the  Settlement  that  he  knew. 

He  swept  in  the  corner  for  two  or  three  minutes.  His 
face  was  drawn  with  the  agony  of  the  conflict.  Gradually 
he  edged  out  again  towards  the  steps  and  began  to  go  down 
them.  He  looked  towards  the  sidewalk  and  saw  that  he 
had  left  one  step  unswept.  The  sight  seemed  to  give  him 
a  reasonable  excuse  for  going  down  there  to  finish  his  sweep- 
ing. He  was  on  the  sidewalk  now,  sweeping  the  last  step, 
with  his  face  towards  the  Settlement  and  his  back  turned 
partly  on  the  saloon  across  the  alley.  He  swept  the  step  a 
dozen  times.  The  sweat  rolled  over  his  face  and  dropped 
down  at  his  feet.  By  degrees  he  felt  that  he  was  drawn 
over  towards  that  end  of  the  step  nearest  the  saloon.  He 
could  smell  the  beer  and  rum  now,  as  the  fumes  rose 
around  him.  It  was  like  the  infernal  sulphur  of  the  lowest 
hell  and  yet  it  dragged  him,  as  by  a  giant's  hand,  nearer 
its  source. 

He  was  down  in  the  middle  of  the  sidewalk  now,  still 
sweeping.  He  cleared  the  space  in  front  of  the  Settlement 
and  even  went  out  into  the  gutter  and  swept  that.  He  took 
off  his  hat  and  rubbed  his  sleeve  over  his  face.  His  lips 
were  pallid  and  his  teeth  chattered.    He  trembled  all  over 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  241 

like  a  palsied  man  and  staggered  back  and  forth,  as  if  he 
were  already  drunk.    His  soul  shook  within  him. 

He  had  crossed  over  the  little  piece  of  stone  flagging  that 
measured  the  width  of  the  alley,  and  now  he  stood  in  front 
of  the  saloon,  looking  at  the  sign  and  staring  into  the  win- 
dow at  the  pile  of  whisky  and  beer  bottles  arranged  in  a 
great  pyramid  Inside.  He  moistened  his  lips  with  his  tongue 
and  took  a  step  forward,  looking  around  him  stealthily. 
The  door  suddenly  opened  again  and  some  one  came  out. 
Again  the  hot,  penetrating  smell  of  the  liquor  swept  out 
into  the  cold  air,  and  he  took  another  step  towards  the 
saloon  door,  which  had  shut  behind  the  customer.  As  he 
laid  his  fingers  on  the  door  handle,  a  tall  figure  came 
around  the  corner.    It  was  the  Bishop. 

He  seized  Burns  by  the  arm  and  dragged  him  back  upon 
the  sidewalk.  The  frenzied  man,  now  mad  for  drink, 
shrieked  out  a  curse  and  struck  at  the  Bishop  savagely.  It 
is  doubtful  if  he  really  knew  at  first  who  was  snatching 
him  away  from  his  ruin.  The  blow  fell  upon  the  Bishop's 
face  and  cut  a  gash  in  his  cheek. 

He  never  uttered  a  word.  But  over  his  face  a  look  of 
majestic  sorrow  swept.  He  picked  Burns  up,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  child,  and  actually  carried  him  up  the  steps  and  into 
the  Settlement.  He  placed  him  down  in  the  hall,  and  then 
shut  the  door  and  put  his  back  against  it. 

Burns  fell  on  his  knees,  sobbing  and  praying.  The 
Bishop  stood  there,  panting  with  his  exertion,  although 
Burns  was  a  slight-built  man  and  had  not  been  a  great 
weight  for  one  of  the  Bishop's  strength  to  carry.  The 
Bishop  was  moved  with  unspeakable  pity. 

"Pray,  Burns!  Pray  as  you  never  prayed  before!  Koth' 
ing  else  will  save  you!" 


243  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"O  God!  Pray  with  me!  Save  me!  O  save  me  from 
my  hell!"  cried  Burns.  And  the  Bishop  kneeled  by  him 
in  the  hall  and  praj'ed  as  only  he  could. 

After  that,  they  arose  and  Burns  went  into  his  room. 
He  came  out  of  it  that  evening  like  a  humble  child.  And 
the  Bishop  went  his  way,  older  from  that  experience,  bear- 
ing in  his  body  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Truly  he 
was  learning  something  of  what  it  means  to  walk  in  His 
steps. 

But  the  saloon!  It  stood  there,  and  all  the  others  lined 
the  street  like  so  many  traps  set  for  Burns.  How  long 
would  the  man  be  able  to  resist  the  smell  of  the  damnable 
stuff?  The  Bishop  went  out  on  the  porch.  The  air  of  the 
whole  city  seemed  to  be  impregnated  with  the  odor  of  beer. 
"How  long,  O  God,  how  long!"  the  Bishop  prayed. 

Dr.  Bruce  came  out,  and  the  two  friends  talked  over 
Burns  and  his  temptation. 

"Did  you  ever  make  any  inquiries  about  the  ownership 
of  this  property  adjoining  us?"  the  Bishop  asked. 

"No.  I  haven't  taken  time  for  it.  I  will  now,  if  you 
think  it  would  be  worth  while.  But  what  can  we  do, 
Edward,  against  the  saloon  in  this  great  city?  It  is  as 
firmly  established  as  the  churches  or  politics.  What  power 
can  ever  remove  it?" 

"God  will  do  it  in  time,  as  He  removed  slavery,"  replied 
the  Bishop  gravely.  Meanwhile,  I  think  we  have  a  right 
to  know  who  controls  this  saloon  so  near  the  Settlement." 

"I'll  find  out,"  said  Dr.  Bruce. 

Two  days  later,  he  walked  into  the  business  office  of 
one  of  the  members  of  Nazareth  Avenue  Church  and  asked 
to  see  him  a  few  momei^ts.    He  was  cordially  received  by 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  24;) 

his  old  parishioner,  M'ho  weleometl  him  into  his  room  and 
urged  him  to  take  all  the  time  he  wanted. 

"I  called  to  see  j'on  about  that  property  next  to  the  Set- 
tlement Avhere  the  Bishop  and  myself  now  are,  you  know. 
I  am  going  to  speak  plainly,  because  life  is  too  short  and 
too  serious  for  us  both  to  have  any  foolish  hesitation  about 
this  matter.  Clayton,  do  you  think  it  is  right  to  rent  that 
propertj'  for  a  saloon?" 

Dr.  Bruce's  question  was  as  direct  and  uncompromising 
as  he  had  meant  it  to  be.  The  effect  of  it  on  his  old  parish- 
ioner was  instantaneous. 

The  hot  blood  mounted  to  the  face  of  the  man  who  sat 
there,  a  picture  of  business  activity  in  a  great  citj'.  Then 
he  grew  pale,  dropped  his  head  on  his  hands  and,  when  he 
raised  it  again,  Dr.  Bruce  was  amazed  to  see  a  tear  roll  over 
his  parishioner's  face. 

"Doctor,  did  you  know  that  I  took  the  pledge  that  morn- 
ing with  the  others?" 

"Yes,  I  remember." 

"But  you  never  knew  how  I  have  been  tormented  over 
my  failure  to  keep  it  in  this  instance.  That  saloon  property 
has  been  the  temptation  of  the  devil  to  me.  It  is  the  best 
l)aying  investment  at  present  that  I  have.  And  yet  it  was 
only  a  minute  before  you  came  in  here  that  I  was  in  an 
agony  of  remorse  to  think  how  I  was  letting  a  little  earthly 
gain  tempt  me  into  denial  of  the  very  Christ  I  had  prom- 
ised to  follow.  T  know  well  enough  that  He  would  never 
rent  property  for  such  a  purpose.  Tliere  is  no  need,  dear 
Doctor,  for  you  to  say  a  word  more."  Clayton  held  out  his 
hand  and  Doctor  Bruce  grasped  it  and  shook  it  hard.  After 
a  little  he  went  away.  But  it  was  a  long  time  afterwards 
that  he  learned  all  the  truth  about  the  strngtrle  that  Clay- 


344  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

tou  had  known.  It  was  only  a  part  of  the  history  that 
belonged  to  Nazareth  Avenue  Church,  since  that  memorable 
morning  when  the  Holy  Spirit  sanctioned  the  Christlike 
Pledge.  Not  even  the  Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce,  moving  as 
they  now  did  in  the  very  presence  itself  of  divine  impulses, 
knew  yet  that  over  the  whole  sinful  city  the  Spirit  w^as 
brooding  with  mighty  eagerness,  waiting  for  the  disciples 
to  arise  to  the  call  of  sacrifice  and  suffering,  touching 
hearts  long  dull  and  cold,  making  business  men  and  money 
makers  uneasy  in  their  absorption  by  the  one  great  struggle 
for  more  wealth,  and  stirring  through  the  church  as  never, 
in  all  the  city's  history,  the  church  had  been  moved.  The 
Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce  had  already  seen  some  wonderful 
things  in  their  brief  life  at  the  Settlement,  They  were  to 
see  far  greater  soon,  more  astonishing  revelations  of  the 
divine  power  than  they  had  supposed  possible,  in  this  age  of 
the  world. 

Within  a  month  the  saloon  next  the  Settlement  was 
closed.  The  saloon-keeper's  lease  had  expired,  and  Clay- 
ton not  only  closed  the  property  to  the  whisky  men  but 
offered  the  use  of  the  building  to  the  Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce 
for  the  Settlement  work,  which  had  now^  grown  so  large 
that  the  building  was  not  sufficient  for  the  different  indus- 
tries that  were  planned. 

One  of  the  most  important  of  these  was  the  pure  food 
department  suggested  by  Felicia.  It  was  not  a  month  after 
Claj'ton  turned  the  saloon  property  over  to  the  Settlement 
that  Felicia  found  herself  installed  in  the  very  room  where 
souls  had  been  lost,  as  head  of  a  department  not  only  of 
cooking  but  of  a  course  of  housekeeping  for  girls  who 
wished  to  go  out  to  service.  She  was  now  a  resident  of  the 
Settlement,  and  found  a  home  with  Mrs.  Bruce  and  the 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  245 

other  young  women  from  the  city  who  were  residents. 
Martha,  the  violinist,  remained  at  the  place  where  the 
Bishop  had  first  discovered  the  two  girls  and  came  over 
to  the  Settlement  certain  evenings  to  give  lessons  in  music. 

"Felicia,  tell  us  your  plan  in  full  now,"  said  the  Bishop 
one  evening  when,  in  a  rare  interval  of  rest  from  the  great 
pressure  of  work,  he,  with  Dr.  Bruce  and  Felicia,  had  come 
in  from  the  other  building. 

"Well,  I  have  long  thought  of  the  hired  girl  problem," 
said  Felicia,  with  an  air  of  wisdom  that  made  Mrs.  Bruce 
smile,  as  she  looked  at  the  enthusiastic  vital  beauty  of  this 
young  girl,  transformed  into  a  new  creature  by  the  prom- 
ise she  had  made  to  live  the  Christlike  life.  "And  I  have 
reached  certain  conclusions  in  regard  to  it  that  j^ou  men 
are  not  yet  able  to  fathpm,  but  Mrs.  Bruce  here  will  under- 
stand me." 

"We  acknowledge  our  infancy.  Felicia.  Go  on,"  said  the 
Bishop  humbly. 

"Then  this  is  what  I  propose  to  do.  The  old  saloon 
building  is  large  enough  to  arrange  into  a  suite  of  rooms 
thatM-ill  represent  an  ordinary  house.  My  plan  is  to  have  it  so 
arranged,  and  then  teach  housekeeping  and  cooking  to  girls 
v.'ho  will  afterwards  go  out  to  service.  The  course  will  be 
six  months  long.  In  that  time  I  will  teach  plain  cooking, 
neatness,  quickness,  and  a  love  of  good  work." 

"Hold  on,  Felicia!"  the  Bishop  interrupted.  "This  is 
not  an  age  of  miracles  I" 

"Then  I  will  make  it  one,"  replied  Felicia.  "I  know  this 
seems  like  an  impossibility,  but  I  want  to  try  it.  I  know  a 
score  of  girls,  already,  who  will  take  the  course  and,  if 
we  can  once  establish  something  like  an  esprit  de  corps 
among  the  girls  themselves,  I  am  sure  it  will  bo  of  great 


246  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

value  to  tiiem.  1  know  already  that  the  pure  food  is  work- 
ing a  revolution  in  many  families." 

"Felicia,  if  you  can  accomplish  half  of  what  you  pro- 
pose to  do,  it  will  bless  this  whole  community,"  said  Mrs. 
Bruce.  "I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  it,  but  I  say,  'God 
bless  you,'  as  you  try." 

"So  say  we  all!"  cried  Dr.  Bruce  and  the  Bishop;  and 
Felicia  plunged  into  the  working  out  of  her  plan  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  her  discipleship,  which  every  day  grew  more 
and  more  practical  and  serviceable. 

It  must  be  said  here  that  Felicia's  plan  succeeded 
beyond  all  expectations.  She  developed  wonderful  powers 
of  persuasion  and  taught  her  girls  with  astonishing  rapidity 
to  do  all  sorts  of  housework.  In  time  the  graduates  of 
Felicia's  cooking  school  came  to  be  prized  by  housekeepers 
all  over  the  city.  But  that  is  anticipating  our  story.  The 
history  of  the  Settlement  has  never  yet  been  written.  When 
it  is,  Felicia's  part  will  be  found  of  very  great  importance. 

The  depth  of  winter  found  Chicago  presenting,  as  every 
great  city  of  the  world  presents  to  the  eyes  of  Christendom, 
the  marked  contrast  between  riches  and  poverty,  between 
culture,  refinement,  luxury,  ease,  and  ignorance,  depravity, 
destitution  and  the  bitter  struggle  for  bread.  It  was  a  hard 
winter,  but  a  gay  winter.  Never  had  there  been  such  a 
succession  of  parties,  receptions,  balls,  dinners,  banquets, 
fetes,  gayeties.  Never  had  the  opera  and  the  theater  been  so 
crowded  with  fashionable  audiences.  Never  had  there  been 
such  a  lavish  display  of  jewels  and  fine  dresses  and  equi- 
pages. And  on  the  other  hand,  never  had  the  deep  want  and 
suffering  been  so  cruel,  so  sharp,  so  murderous.  Never  had 
the  winds  blown  so  chilling  over  the  lake  and  through  the 
thin  shells  of  tenements  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Set- 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  247 

tlemeut.  Never  had  the  pressure  for  food  and  fuel  and 
olotlies  been  so  urgentlj^  thrust  up  against  the  people  of  the 
city  in  their  most  importunate  and  ghastly  form.  Night 
after  night,  the  Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce  ^Yith  their  helpers 
went  out  and  helped  save  men  and  women  and  children 
from  the  torture  of  physical  privation.  Vast  quantities  of 
food  and  clothing  and  large  sums  of  money  were  donated 
by  the  churches,  the  charitable  societies,  the  civic  authori- 
ties and  the  benevolent  associations.  But  the  personal 
touch  of  the  Christian  disciple  was  very  hard  to  secure  for 
personal  work.  Where  was  the  discipleship  that  was  obey- 
ing the  Master's  command  to  go  itself  to  the  suffering  and 
give  itself  with  its  gift,  in  order  to  make  the  gift  of  value 
in  time  to  come?  The  Bishop  found  his  heart  sink  within 
him  as  he  faced  this  fact  more  than  any  other.  Men  would 
give  money,  who  would  not  think  of  giving  themselves. 
And  the  money  they  gave  did  not  represent  any  real  sacri- 
fice, because  they  did  not  miss  it.  They  gave  what  was  the 
easiest  to  give,  what  hurt  them  the  least.  Where  did  the 
sacrifice  come  in?  Was  this  following  Jesus;  was  this  going 
with  Him  all  the  way?  He  had  been  to  many  members 
of  his  own  wealthy  and  aristocratic  congregation,  and 
was  appalled  to  find  how  few  men  and  women  of  that  luxu- 
rious class  in  the  churches  would  really  suffer  any  genuine 
inconvenience  for  the  sake  of  suffering  humanit5^  Is  char- 
ity the  giving  of  worn-out  garments?  Is  it  a  ten-dollar  bill 
given  to  a  paid  visitor  or  secretary  of  some  benevolent 
organization  in  the  church?  Shall  the  man  never  go  and 
give  his  gift,  himself?  Shall  the  woman  never  deny  her- 
self her  reception  or  her  party  or  her  musicale  and  go  and 
actually  touch,  herself,  the  foul,  sinful  sore  of  diseased 
humanity  as  it  festers  in  the  great  metropolis?    Shall  char- 


248  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

ity  be  conveniently  and  easily  clone  through  some  organiza- 
tion? Is  it  possible  to  organize  the  affections  so  that  love 
shall  work  disagreeable  things  by  proxy? 

All  this  the  Bishop  asked,  as  he  plunged  deeper  into  the 
sin  and  sorrow  of  that  bitter  winter.  He  was  bearing  his 
cross  with  joy.  But  he  burned  and  fought  within,  over  the 
shifting  of  personal  love,  by  the  many,  upon  the  hearts  of 
the  few.  And  still,  silently,  powerfully,  resistlessly,  the 
Holy  Spirit  was  moving  through  the  church,  upon  even 
the  aristocratic,  wealthy,  ease-loving  members,  who  shunned 
the  terrors  of  the  social  problem  as  they  would  shun  a  con- 
tagious disease. 

This  fact  was  impressed  upon  the  Bishop  and  the  Settle- 
ment workers  in  a  startling  way  one  morning.  Perhaps  no 
one  incident  of  that  winter  shows  more  plainly  how  much  of 
a  momentum  had  already  grown  out  of  the  movement  of 
Nazareth  Avenue  Church  and  the  action  of  Dr.  Bruce  and 
the  Bishop,  that  followed  the  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus 
would  do. 

The  breakfast  hour  at  the  Settlement  was  the  one  hour 
in  the  day  when  the  whole  resident  family  found  a  little 
breathing  space  to  fellowship  together.  It  was  an  hour  of 
relaxation.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  good  natured  repartee 
and  much  real  wit  and  enjoyable  fun  at  this  hour.  The 
Bishop  told  his  best  stories.  Dr.  Bruce  was  at  his  best  in 
anecdote.  This  company  of  disciples  was  healthily  humor- 
ous in  spite  of  the  atmosphere  of  sorrow  that  constantly 
surrounded  them.  In  fact,  the  Bishop  often  said  that  the 
faculty  of  humor  was  as  God-given  as  any  other;  and  in 
his  own  case  it  was  the  only  safety  valve  he  had  for  the 
tremendous  pressure  put  upon  him. 

This    particular    morning     the     Bishop     wa«    reading 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  249 

extracts  from  a  morning  paper  for  the  benefit  of  the  others. 
Suddenly  he  paused  and  his  face  instantly  grew  stern  and 
sad.    The  rest  looked  up  and  a  hush  fell  over  the  table. 

"Shot  and  killed  while  taking  a  lump  of  coal  from  a  car. 
His  family  was  freezing  and  he  had  had  no  work  for  six 
months.  His  si^  children  and  a  wife  all  packed  into  a  cabin 
Avith  three  rooms,  on  the  West  Side.  One  child  wrapped 
in  rags  in  a  closet!" 

These  were  head-lines  that  the  Bishop  read  slowly.  He 
then  went  on  and  read  the  detailed  account  of  the  shooting 
and  the  visit  of  the  reporter  to  the  tenement  where  the 
family  lived. 

He  finished  and  there  was  silence  around  the  table.  The 
humor  of  the  hour  was  SAvept  out  of  existence  by  this  bit 
of  human  tragedy.  The  great  city  roared  about  the  Set- 
tlement. The  awful  current  of  human  life  was  flowing  in 
a  great  stream  past  the  Settlement  house  and  those  who 
had  work  were  hurrying  to  it  In  a  vast  throng.  But  thou- 
sands were  going  down  in  the  midst  of  that  current,  clutch- 
ing at  last  hopes,  dying,  literally  in  a  land  of  plenty, 
because  the  boon  of  physical  toil  was  denied  them. 

There  were  various  comments  on  the  part  of  the  resi- 
dents. One  of  the  new  comers,  a  young  man  preparing  for 
the  miuistr3',  said,  "Why  didn't  the  man  apply  to  one  of  the 
charity  organizations  for  help?  Or  to  the  city?  It  certainly 
is  not  true  that,  even  at  its  worst,  this  city  full  of  Christian 
people  would  knowingly  allow  any  one  to  go  without  food 
or  fuel." 

"No,  I  don't  believe  that  it  would,"  replied  Dr.  Bruce. 
"But  we  don't  know  the  history  of  that  man's  case.  He 
may  liavo  asked  for  help  so  often  before,  that  finally,  in  a 


350  IN   HIS  STEPS. 

moment  of  desperation,  he  determined  to  help  himself.  I 
have  known  such  cases  this  winter." 

"That  is  not  the  terrible  fact  in  this  case,"  said  the 
Bishop.  "The  awful  thing  about  it  is  the  fact  that  the 
man  had  not  had  any  work  for  six  months." 

"Why  don't  such  people  go  out  into  the  country?"  asked 
the  divinity  student. 

Some  one  at  the  table  who  had  made  a  special  study 
of  the  opportunities  for  work  in  the  country  answered  the 
question.  According  to  the  investigator,  the  places  that 
were  possible  for  work  in  the  country  were  exceedingly 
few  for  steady  employment,  and  in  almost  every  case  they 
were  offered  only  to  men  without  families.  Suppose  a 
man's  wife  and  children  were  ill.  How  could  he  move  or 
get  into  the  country?  How  could  he  pay  even  the  meager 
sum  necessary  to  move  his  few  goods?  There  were  a  thou- 
sand reasons  probably  why  this  particular  man  did  not  go 
elsewhere. 

"Meanwhile,  there  are  the  wife  and  children,"  said  Mrs. 
Bruce.    "How  awful!    Where  is  the  place,  did  you  say?" 

The  Bishop  took  up  the  paper. 

"Why,  it's  only  three  blocks  from  here.  This  is  the 
Penrose  district.  I  believe  Penrose,  himself,  owns  half  of 
the  houses  in  that  block.  They  are  among  the  worst  houses 
in  this  part  of  the  city.    And  Penrose  is  a  church  member." 

"Yes,  he  belongs  to  the  Nazareth  Avenue  Church," 
replied  Dr.  Bruce  in  a  low  voice. 

The  Bishop  rose  from  the  table  the  very  figure  of  divine 
wrath.  He  had  opened  his  lips  to  say  what  seldom  came 
from  him  in  the  way  of  denunciation,  when  the  bell  rang 
and  one  of  the  residents  went  to  the  door. 

"Tell  Dr.  Bruce  and  the  Bishop  I  want  to  see  then). 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  351 

Penrose  is  the  name.  Clarence  Penrose.  Dr.  Bruce  knows 
me." 

The  family  at  the  breakfast  table  heard  every  word. 
The  Bishop  exchanged  a  significant  look  with  Dr.  Bruce 
and  the  two  men  instantly  left  the  table  and  went  out  into 
the  hall. 

"Come  in  here,  Penrose,"  said  Dr.  Bruce,  and  he  and  the 
Bishop  ushered  the  visitor  into  the  reception  room.  They 
closed  the  door  and  were  alone. 

Clarence  Penrose  was  one  of  the  most  elegant  looking 
men  in  Chicago.  He  came  from  an  aristocratic  family  of 
great  wealth  and  social  distinction.  He  was  exceedingly 
wealthy  and  had  large  property  holdings  in  different  parts 
of  the  city.  He  had  been  a  member  of  Dr.  Bruce's  church 
all  his  life. 

This  man  faced  the  Bishop  and  his  former  pastor  with 
a  look  of  agitation  on  his  countenance  that  showed  plainly 
the  mark  of  some  unusual  experience.  He  was  very  pale 
and  his  lip  trembled  as  he  spoke.  When  had  Clarence  Pen- 
rose ever  before  yielded  to  such  a  strange  emotion  of 
feeling? 

"This  affair  of  the  shootingi  You  understand.  You 
have  read  it.  The  family  lived  in  one  of  my  houses.  It  is 
a  terrible  event.  But  that  is  not  the  primary  cause  of  my 
visit."  He  stammered  and  looked  anxiously  into  the  faces 
of  the  two  men.  The  Bishop  still  looked  stern.  He  could 
not  help  feeling  that  this  elegant  man  of  leisure  could  have 
done  a  great  deal  to  alleviate  the  horrors  in  his  tenements, 
possibly  have  prevented  this  tragedy,  if  he  had  sacrificed 
some  of  his  personal  ease  and  luxury  to  better  the  condition 
of  the  people  In  his  district. 

Penrose  turned  to  Dr.  Bruce. 


852  IN  HIS  STEPS 

"Doctor!"  he  exclaimed,  aud  there  was  almost  a  child's 
terror  in  his  voice.  "I  came  to  say  that  I  have  had  an 
experience  so  unusual  that  nothing  but  the  supernatural 
can  explain  it.  You  remember  I  was  one  of  those  who  took 
the  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do.  I  thought  at  the  time, 
poor  fool  that  I  was,  that  I  had  all  along  been  doing  the 
Christian  thing.  I  gave  liberally  out  of  my  abundance  to 
the  church  and  charity.  I  never  gave  myself  to  cost  me 
any  suffering.  I  have  been  living  in  a  perfect  hell  of  con- 
tradictions ever  since  I  took  the  pledge.  My  little  girl, 
Diana,  you  remember  also  took  the  pledge  with  me.  She 
has  been  asking  me  a  great  many  questions  lately  about 
the  poor  people  and  where  they  lived.  I  was  obliged  to 
answer  her.  One  of  her  questions  last  night  touched  my 
sore:  Did  I  own  any  houses  where  those  people  lived? 
Were  they  nice  and  warm  like  ours?  You  know  how  a 
child  will  ask  questions  like  these.  I  went  to  bed  tormented 
with  what  I  now  know  to  be  the  divine  arrows  of  conscience. 
I  could  not  sleep.  I  seemed  to  see  the  judgment  day.  I 
was  placed  before  the  Judge.  I  was  asked  to  give  account 
of  my  deeds  done  in  the  body:  How  many  sinful  souls  had 
I  visited  in  prison?  What  had  I  done  with  my  steward- 
ship? How  about  those  tenements  where  people  froze  in 
winter  and  stifled  in  summer?  Did  I  give  any  thought  to 
them,  except  to  receive  the  rentals  from  them?  Where  did 
my  suffering  come  in?  Would  Jesus  have  done  as  I  had 
done  and  was  doing?  Had  I  broken  my  pledge?  How  had 
I  used  the  money  and  the  culture  and  the  social  influence 
I  possessed?  Had  I  used  it  to  bless  humanity,  to  relieve 
the  suffering,  to  bring  joy  to  the  distressed  and  hope  to  the 
desponding?  I  had  received  much.  How  much  had  I 
given? 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  UO  ?"  258 

"All  this  came  to  me  lu  a  waking  vision  as  distinctly  as 
I  see  you  two  men  and  myself  now.  I  was  unable  to  see 
the  end  of  the  vision.  I  had  a  confused  picture  in  my 
mind  of  the  suffering  Christ  pointing  a  condemning  finger 
at  me,  and  the  rest  was  shut  out  by  mist  and  darkness.  I 
have  not  had  sleep  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  first  thing 
I  saw  this  morning  was  the  account  of  the  shooting  at  the 
coal  yards.  I  read  the  account  with  a  feeling  of  horror 
I  have  not  been  able  to  shake  off.  I  am  a  guilty  creature 
before  God." 

Penrose  paused  suddenly.  The  two  men  looked  at 
him  solemnly.  What  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit  moved  the 
soul  of  this  hitherto  self-satisfied,  elegant,  cultured  man 
who  belonged  to  the  social  life  that  was  accustomed  to  go 
its  wa3%  placidly  unmindful  of  the  great  sorrows  of  a  great 
citj'  and  practically  ignorant  of  what  it  means  to  suffer  for 
Jesus'  sake. 

Into  that  room  came  a  breath  such  as  before  swept  over 
Henry  ^Maxwell's  church  and  through  Nazareth  Avenue. 
And  the  Bishop  laid  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Penrose 
and  said,  "My  brother,  God  has  been  very  near  to  you.  Let 
us  thank  him." 

"Yes,  yes,"  sobbed  Penrose.  He  sat  down  on  a  chair 
and  covered  his  face.  The  Bishop  prayed.  Then  Penrose 
quietly  said,  "Will  you  go  with  me  to  that  house?" 

For  answer,  both  Dr.  Bruce  and  the  Bishop  put  on  their 
overcoats  and  went  out  with  him  to  the  home  of  the  dead 
man's  family.  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  and 
strange  life  for  Clarence  Penrose.  From  the  moment  he 
stepped  into  that  wretched  hovel  of  a  home  and  faced  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  a  despair  and  suffering  such  as  he 
had  read  of  but  did  not  know  by  personal  contact,  he  dated 


254  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

a  new  life.  It  would  be  anothei'  long  story  to  tell  how,  in 
obedience  to  his  pledge,  he  began  to  do  with  his  tenement 
property  as  he  knew  Jesus  would  do.  What  would  Jesus  do 
with  tenement  property,  if  He  owned  it  in  Chicago  or  any 
other  great  city  of  the  world?  Any  man  who  can  imagine 
any  true  answer  to  this  question  can  easily  tell  w^hat  Clar- 
ence Penrose  began  to  do. 

Now,  before  that  winter  reached  its  bitter  climax,  many 
things  occurred  in  the  city  that  concerned  the  lives  of  all 
the  characters  in  this  history  of  the  disciples  who  promised 
to  walk  in  His  steps. 

It  chanced,  by  one  of  those  remarkable  coincidences  that 
seem  to  occur  preternaturally,  that  one  afternoon,  just  as 
Felicia  came  out  of  the  Settlement  with  a  basket  of  food 
which  she  was  going  to  leave  as  a  sample  with  a  baker 
in  the  Penrose  district,  Stephen  Clyde  opened  the  door  of 
the  carpenter  shop  in  the  basement  and  came  out  of  the 
lower  door,  in  time  to  meet  Felicia  as  she  reached  the  side- 
,walk. 

"Let  me  carry  your  basket,  please,"  he  said. 

"Why  do  you  say  'please'?*'  asked  Felicia  handing  over 
the  basket. 

"I  would  like  to  say  something  else,"  replied  Stephen, 
glancing  at  her  shyly  and  yet  with  a  boldness  that  fright- 
ened him,  for  he  had  been  loving  Felicia  more  every  day 
since  he  first  saw  her,  and  especially  since  she  stepped  into 
the  shop  that  day  with  the  Bishop,  and  for  weeks  now  they 
had  been  in  many  ways  thrown  into  each  other's  company. 

"What  else?"  asked  Felicia  innocently,  falling  into  the 
trap. 

"Why—"  said  Stephen,  turning  his  fair,  noble  face  full 
towards  her  and  eyeing  her  with  the  look  of  one  who  would 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  355 

have  the  best  of  all  thiugs  iu  the  u.uiverse,  "I  would  like 
to  say,  'Let  me  carry  your  basket,  clear  Felicia.'  " 

Felicia  never  looked  so  beautiful  in  her  life.  She  walked 
on  a  little  way  without  even  turning  her  face  towards  him. 
It  was  no  secret  with  her  own  heart  that  she  had  given  it  to 
Stephen  some  time  ago.  Finally  she  turned  and  said  shylj% 
while  her  face  grew  rosy  and  her  eyes  tender,  "Why  don't 
you  say  it  then?" 

"May  I?"  cried  Stephen,  and  he  was  so  careless  for  a 
minute  of  the  way  he  held  the  basket,  that  Felicia  exclaimed, 
"Yes!    But  Oh,  don't  drop  my  goodies!" 

"Why,  I  wouldn't  drop  anything  so  precious  for  all  the 
world,  'dear  Felicia',"  said  Stephen  who  now  walked  on  air 
for  several  blocks;  and  what  else  was  said  during  that  walk 
is  private  correspondence  that  we  have  no  right  to  read. 
Only,  it  is  matter  of  history  that  day  that  the  basket  never 
reached  its  destination,  and  that  over  in  the  other  direction, 
late  in  the  afternoon,  the  Bishop,  walking  along  quietly  in 
a  rather  secluded  spot  near  the  outlying  part  of  the  Settle- 
ment district,  heard  a  familiar  voice  say,  "But  tell  me, 
I'elicia,  when  did  you  begin  to  love  me!" 

"I  fell  in  love  with  a  little  pine  shaving  just  above 
your  ear,  that  day  I  saw  you  in  the  shop!"  said  the  other 
voice,  with  a  laugh  so  clear,  so  pure,  so  sweet,  that  it  did 
one  good  to  hear  it. 

The  next  moment,  the  Bishop  turned  the  corner  and 
came  upon  them. 

"Where  are  you  going  with  that  basket?"  he  tried  to 
say  sternly. 

"We're  taking  it  to— Where  are  we  taking  it  to, Felicia?" 

"Dear  Bishop,  we  are  taking  it  home  to  begin—" 


356  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

"To  begin  housekeeping  with,"  finished  Stephen,  com- 
ing to  the  rescue. 

"Are  you?"  said  the  Bishop.  "I  hope  you  will  invite  me 
in  to  share.    I  l^now  what  Felicia's  cooliing  is." 

"Bishop,  dear  Bishop,"  said  Felicia,  and  she  did  not  pre- 
tend to  hide  her  happiness,  "indeed,  you  shall  always  be  the 
most  honored  guest.    Are  you  glad?" 

"Yes,  I  am,"  replied  the  Bishop,  interpreting  Felicia's 
words  as  she  wished.  Then  he  paused  a  moment  and  said 
gently,  "God  bless  you  both,"  and  went  his  way  with  a  tear 
in  his  eye  and  a  prayer  in  his  heart,  and  left  them  to  their 
joy. 

Yes.  Shall  not  the  same  divine  power  of  love  that 
belongs  to  earth  be  lived  and  sung  by  the  disciples  of  the 
Man  of  Sorrows  and  the  Burden  Bearer  of  Sins?  Yea, 
verily!  And  this  man  and  woman  shall  walk  hand  in  hand 
through  this  great  desert  of  human  woe  in  this  city, 
strengthening  each  other,  growing  more  loving  with  the  expe- 
rience of  the  world's  sorrows,  walking  in  His  steps  even 
closer  yet  because  of  this  love,  bringing  added  blessing  to 
thousands  of  wretched  creatures  because  they  are  to  have 
a  home  of  their  own  to  share  with  the  homeless.  "For  this 
cause,"  said  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  "shall  a  man  leave  his 
father  and  mother  and  cleave  unto  his  wife."  And  Fe- 
licia and  Stephen,  following  the  Master,  love  Him  with 
deeper,  truer  service  and  devotion  because  of  the  earthly 
affection  which  heaven  itself  sanctions  with  its  solemn 
blessing. 

Now  it  was  a  little  after  the  love  story  of  the  Settle- 
ment became  a  part  of  its  glory,  that  Henry  Maxwell  of 
Raymond  came  to  Chicago  with  Rachel  Winslow  and  Vir- 
ginia Page  and  Rollin,  and  Alexander  Powers  and  Presi- 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  257 

dent  Marsh,  and  the  occasion  was  a  remarkable  gathering 
at  the  hall  of  the  Settlement  arranged  by  the  Bishop  and 
Dr.  Bruce,  who  had  finally  persuaded  Mr.  Maxwell  and  his 
fellow  disciples  of  Raymond  to  come  on  to  be  present  at 
this  meeting. 

The  Bishop  invited  into  the  Settlement  Hall  meeting 
for  that  night,  men  out  of  work,  wretched  creatures  who 
had  lost  faith  in  God  and  man,  anarchists  and  infidels,  free 
thinkers  and  no  thinkers.  The  representatives  of  all  the 
cit3''s  worst,  most  hopeless,  most  dangerous,  depraved  ele- 
ments faced  Henry  ^laxwell  and  the  other  disciples  when 
the  meeting  began.  And  still  the  Holy  Spirit  moved  over 
the  great,  heaving,  selfi^^h,  pleasure-loving,  sin-stained  city, 
and  it  lay  in  God's  hand,  not  knowing  all  that  awaited  it. 
Every  man  and  woman  at  the  meeting  that  night  had  seen 
the  Settlement  motto  over  the  door,  blazing  through  the 
transparency  set  up  by  .the  divinity  student:  "What  would 
Jesus  do?" 

And  Henry  Maxwell,  as  for  the  first  time  he  stepped 
under  the  doorway,  was  touched  with  a  deeper  emotion 
than  he  had  felt  in  a  long  time,  as  he  thought  of  the  first 
time  that  question  had  come  to  him  in  the  piteous  appeal 
of  the  shabby  young  man  who  had  appeared  in  the  First 
Church  of  Raymond  at  the  morning  service. 

Was  his  great  desire  for  Christian  fellowship  i^oiug  to 
be  granted?  Would  the  movement  begun  in  Ri^ymond 
actually  spread  over  the  country?  He  had  come  to  Chicago 
with  his  friends,  partly  to  see  if  the  answer  to  that  question 
would  be  found  in  the  heart  of  the  great  city  life.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  would  face  the  people.  He  had  growr  very 
strong  and  calm  since  he  first  spoke  with  trembling  to  ^hat 
company  of  working  men  in  the  railroad  shops-  but  now. 


358  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

as  then,  he  breathed  a  deeper  prayer  for  help.  Then  he 
went  in  and  with  the  Bishop  and  the  rest  of  the  disciples 
he  experienced  one  of  the  great  and  important  events  of 
the  earthly  life.  Somehow,  he  felt  as  if  this  meeting  would 
indicate  something  of  an  answer  to  his  constant  query, 
"What  would  Jesus  do?"  And  to-night  as  he  looked  into 
the  faces  of  men  and  women  who  had  for  years  been 
strangers  and  enemies  to  the  church,  his  heart  cried  out, 
"O  my  Master,  teach  Thy  church  how  to  follow  Thy  steps 
better!"  Is  that  prayer  of  Henry  Maxwell's  to  be 
answered?  Will  the  church  in  the  city  respond  to 
the  call  to  follow  Him?  Will  it  choose  to  walli  in  His  steps 
of  pain  and  suffering?  And  still,  over  all  the  city,  broods 
the  Spirit.  Grieve  Him  not,  O  city!  For  He  was  never 
more  ready  to  revolutionize  this  world  than  now! 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

"Yet  lackest  thou  one  thing;  sell  all  that  thou  hast  and  dis 
tribute  unto  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven; 
and  come,  follow  me." 

When  Henry  Maxwell  began  to  speak  to  the  souls 
crowded  into  the  Settlement  Hall  that  night,  it  is  doubtful 
if  he  had  ever  before  faced  such  an  audience  in  his  life. 
It  is  quite  certain  that  the  city  of  Raymond  did  not  contain 
such  a  variety  of  humanity.  Not  even  the  Rectangle,  at  its 
worst,  could  furnish  so  many  men  and  women  who  had 
fallen  entirely  out  of  the  reach  of  the  church  and  all  reli- 
gious, and  even  Christian  influences. 

What  did  he  talk  about?  He  had  already  decided  that 
point.  He  told,  in  the  simplest  language  he  could  com- 
mand, some  of  the  results  of  obedience  to  the  pledge  as  it 
had  been  taken  in  Raymond.  Every  man  and  woman  in 
that  audience  knew  something  about  Jesus  Christ.  They 
all  had  some  idea  of  His  character  and,  however  much 
they  had  grown  bitter  towards  the  forms  of  Christian 
ecclesiasticism,  or  the  social  system,  they  preserved  some 
standard  of  right  and  truth,  and  what  little  some  of  them 
still  retained  was  taken  from  the  person  of  the  Peasant  of 
(lalilee. 

So  they  were  interested  in  what  Maxwell  said.  "What 
would  Jesus  do?"  He  began  to  apply  the  question  to  the 
social  problem  in  general,  after  finishing  the  story  of  Ray- 
mond.   The  audience  was  respectfully    attentive.      It  was 


260  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

more  than  that.  It  was  genuinely  interested.  As  Mr.  Max- 
well went  on,  faces  all  over  the  hall  leaned  forward,  in  a 
way  very  seldom  seen  in  church  audiences  or  anywhere, 
except  among  working  men  or  the  people  of  the  street  when 
once  they  are  thoroughly  aroused.  "What  would  Jesus 
do?"  Suppose  that  were  the  motto,  not  only  of  the  churches 
but  of  the  business  men,  the  politicians,  the  newspapers, 
the  working  men,  the  society  people— how  long  would  it 
take,  under  such  a  standard  of  conduct,  to  revolutionize  the 
world?  What  was  the  trouble  with  the  world?  It  was 
suffering  from  selfishness.  No  one  ever  lived  who  had  suc- 
ceeded in  overcoming  selfishness  like  Jesus.  If  men  fol- 
lowed Him,  regardless  of  results,  the  world  would  at  once 
begin  to  enjoy  a  new  life. 

Henry  Maxwell  never  knew  how  much  It  meant  to  hold 
the  respectful  attention  of  that  hall  full  of  diseased  and 
sinful  humanity.  The  Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce,  sitting  there, 
looking  on,  seeing  many  faces  that  represented  scorn  of 
creeds,  hatred  of  the  social  order,  desperate  narrowness  and 
selfishness,  marveled  that  even  so  soon,  under  the  influence 
of  the  Settlement  life,  the  softening  process  had  begun 
already  to  lessen  the  bitterness  of  hearts,  many  of  which 
had  grown  bitter  from  neglect  and  indifference. 

And  still,  in  spite  of  the  outward  show  of  respect  to 
the  speaker,  no  one,  not  even  the  Bishop,  had  any  true  con- 
ception of  the  pent-up  feeling  in  that  room  that  night. 
Among  the  men  who  had  heard  of  the  meeting  and  had 
responded  to  the  invitation  were  twenty  or  thirty  men  out 
of  work,  who  had  strolled  past  the  Settlement  that  after- 
noon, read  the  notice  of  the  meeting  and  had  come  in  out 
of  curiosity,  and  to  escape  the  chill  east  wind.  It  was  a 
bitter  iiisht  and  the  saloons  were  full.    But  In  that  whole 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  261 

district  of  over  thirty  tliousand  souls,  Avitli  the  exception 
of  the  saloons  there  M'as  not  a  door  open  to  the  people 
except  the  clean,  pure,  Christian  door  of  the  Settlement. 
AYhere  would  a  man  without  a  home,  or  without  work,  or 
without  friends,  uaturallj-  go,  unless  to  a  saloon? 

It  had  been  the  custom  at  the  Settlement  for  a  free  and 
open  discussion  to  follow  an  open  meeting  of  this  Ivind,  and 
when  Henrj'  Maxwell  finished  and  sat  down,  the  Bishop, 
who  presided  to-night,  rose  and  made  the  announcement 
that  any  man  in  the  hall  was  at  liberty  to  ask  questions,  to 
speak  out  his  feelings  or  declare  his  convictions,  always 
with  the  understanding  that  whoever  took  part  was  to 
observe  the  simple  rules  that  governed  parliamentary 
bodies  and  obey  the  three-minute  rule  which,  by  common 
consent,  would  be  enforced  on  account  of  the  numbers 
present. 

Instantly  a  number  of  voices  from  men  who  had  been 
at  previous  meetings  of  this  kind,  exclaimed,  "Consent: 
consent  I" 

The  Bishop  sat  down  and  immediately  a  man  near  the 
middle  of  the  hall  rose  and  began  to  speak. 

"I  want  to  say  that  what  Mr.  Maxw^ell  has  said  to-night 
comes  pretty  close  to  me.  I  knew  Jack  Manning,  the  fellow 
he  told  about,  who  died  at  his  house.  I  worked  on  next 
case  to  his  in  a  printer's  shop  in  Philadelphia  for  two  years. 
Jack  was  a  good  fellow.  He  loaned  me  five  dollars  once 
when  I  was  in  a  hole  and  I  never  got  a  chance  to  pay  it 
back.  He  moved  to  New  York,  owing  to  a  change  in  the 
management  of  the  office  that  threw  him  out,  and  I  never 
saw  him  again.  When  the  linotype  machines  came  in, 
1  was  one  of  the  men  to  go  out,  just  as  he  did.  I  have  been 
out  most  of  the  time  since.    They  say  inventions  are  a  good 


262  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

thing.  I  don't  always  see  it  myself.  But  I  suppose  I'm 
prejudiced.  A  man  naturally  is  when  he  loses  a  steady  job 
because  a  machine  takes  his  place.  About  this  Christianity 
he  tells  about,  it's  all  right.  But  I  never  expect  to  see 
any  such  sacrifice  on  the  part  of  church  people.  So  far  as 
my  observation  goes,  they're  just  as  selfish  and  as  greedy 
for  money  or  worldly  success  as  anybody.  I  except  the 
Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce  and  a  few  others.  But  I  never  found 
much  difference  between  men  of  the  world,  as  they're 
called,  and  church  members,  when  it  came  to  business  and 
money-making.    One  class  is  just  as  bad  as  another  there." 

Cries  of  "That's  sol"  "You're  right!"  "Of  course!" 
interrupted  the  speaker,  and  the  minute  he  sat  down,  two 
men  who  were  on  their  feet  for  several  seconds  before  the 
first  speaker  was  through,  began  to  talk  at  once. 

The  Bishop  called  them  to  order  and  indicated  which 
was  entitled  to  the  floor.  The  man  who  remained  standing, 
began  eagerly, 

"This  is  the  first  time  I  was  ever  in  here,  and  maj'be 
it'll  be  the  last.  Fact  is,  I'm  about  at  the  end  of  my  string. 
I've  tramped  this  city  for  work  until  I'm  sick.  I'm  in 
plenty  of  company.  Say!  I'd  like  to  ask  a  question  of  the 
minister,  if  it's  fair.    May  I?" 

"That's  for  Mr.  Maxwell  to  say,"  said  the  Bishop. 

"By  all  means,"  replied  Mr.  Maxwell  quickly.  "Of 
course  I  will  not  promise  to  answer  it  to  the  gentleman's 
satisfaction." 

"This  is  my  question."  The  man  leaned  forward  and 
stretched  out  a  long  arm,  with  a  certain  dramatic  force  that 
grew  naturally  enough  out  of  his  condition  as  a  human 
being. 

"I  want  to  know  what  Jesus  would  do  in  my  case?    I 


"WHAT  ^VOULD  JESUS  DO?"  2«8 

baveu't  had  a  stroke  of  work  for  two  months.  I've  got  a 
wife  auil  three  chilclreu  aud  I  love  them  as  much  as  if  1  was 
worth  a  million  dollars.  I've  been  living-  off  a  little  earn- 
ings I  saved  up  during  the  World's  Fair  jobs  I  got.  I'm  a 
cari)enter  by  trade,  and  I've  tried  every  way  I  know  to  get  a 
job.  You  say  we  ought  to  take  for  our  motto,  'What  would 
Jesus  do?'  What  Avould  He  do  if  He  was  out  of  work  like 
me?  I  can't  be  somebody  else  and  ask  the  question.  I  want 
to  work.  I'd  give  anything  to  grow  tired  of  working  ten 
hours  a  day  the  way  I  used  to.  Am  I  to  blame  because  I 
can't  manufacture  a  job  for  myself?  I've  got  to  live,  and 
my  wife  and  my  children.  But  how?  What  would  Jesus 
do?    You  say  that's  the  question  we  all  ought  to  ask." 

Henry  Maxwell  sat  there  staring  at  the  great  sea  of 
faces  all  intent  on  his,  and  no  answer  to  this  man's  ques- 
tion seemed,  for  the  time  being,  to  be  possible.  "O  God  I" 
his  heart  prayed.  "This  is  a  question  that  brings  up  the 
entire  social  problem  in  all  its  perplexing  entanglement  of 
human  wrongs  and  its  present  condition  contrary  to  every 
desire  of  God  for  a  human  being's  welfare.  Is  there  any 
condition  more  awful  than  for  a  man  in  good  health,  able 
and  eager  to  work,  with  no  means  of  honest  livelihood 
unless  he  does  work,  actually  unable  to  get  anything  to  do, 
and  driven  to  one  of  three  things,  begging  or  charity  at  the 
hands  of  friends  or  strangers,  or  suicide,  or  starvation.  What 
would  Jesus  do?  It  was  a  fair  question  for  the  man  to  ask. 
It  was  the  only  question  he  could  ask,  supposing  him  to  be 
a  disciple  of  Christ.  But  what  a  question  for  any  man  to 
be  obliged  to  ask  under  such  conditions?" 

All  this  and  more  did  Henry  Maxwell  ponder.  All  the 
others  were  thinking  in  the  same  way.  The  Bishop  sat 
there  with  a  look  so  stern  and  sad  that  it  was  not  hard 


264  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

to  tell  liow  the  question  moved  him.  Dr.  Bruce  had  his 
head  bowed.  The  human  problem  had  never  seemed  to 
him  so  tragical  as  since  he  had  taken  the  pledge  and  left 
his  church  to  enter  the  Settlement.  What  would  Jesus  do? 
It  was  a  terrible  question.  And  still  the  man  stood  there, 
tall  and  gaunt  and  almost  terrible,  with  his  arm  stretched 
ou4  in  an  appeal  which  grew  everj'  second  in  meaning. 

At  length  Mr.  Maxwell  spoke. 

"Is  there  any  man  in  the  room,  who  is  a  Christian  disci- 
ple, who  has  been  in  this  condition  and  has  tried  to  do  as 
Jesus  would  do?  If  so  such  a  man  can  answer  this  ques- 
tion better  than  I  can." 

There  was  a  moment's  hush  over  the  room  and  then  a 
man  near  the  front  of  the  hall  slowly  rose.  He  was  an  old 
man,  and  the  hand  he  laid  on  the  back  of  the  bench  in  front 
of  him  trembled  as  he  spoke. 

"I  think  I  can  safely  say  that  I  have  many  times  been 
in  just  such  a  condition  and  have  always  tried  to  be  a 
Christian  under  all  conditions.  I  don't  know  as  I  have 
always  asked  this  question,  'What  would  Jesus  do?'  when 
I  have  been  out  of  work,  but  I  do  know  I  have  tried  to  be 
His  disciple  at  all  times.  Yes,"  the  man  went  on,  with  a 
sad  smile  that  was  more  pathetic  to  the  Bishop  and  Mr. 
Maxwell  than  the  young  man's  grim  despair,  "yes,  I  have 
begged,  and  I  have  been  to  the  charity  organizations,  and 
I  have  done  everything  when  out  of  a  job,  except  steal  and 
lie,  in  order  to  get  food  and  fuel.  I  don't  know  as  Jesus 
would  have  done  some  of  the  things  I  have  been  obliged 
to  do  for  a  living,  but  I  know  I  have  never  knowingly  done 
wrong  when  out  of  work.  Sometimes  I  think  maybe  He 
would  have  starved  sooner  than  beg.    I  don't  know." 

The  old  man's  voice  trembled  and  he  looked  around  the 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS   DO?"  205 

room  timicUj-.  A  silence  followed,  brokeu  by  a  fierce  voice 
from  a  large,  black-haired,  lieavily-beartled  man  who  sat 
three  seats  from  the  Bishop.  The  minute  he  spoke,  nearly 
every  man  in  the  hall  leaned  forward  eagerly.  The  man 
who  had  asked  the  question,  "What  would  Jesus  do  in  my 
case?"  slowly  sat  down  and  asked  the  man  next  to  him, 
"Who's  that?" 

"That's  Carlson,  the  socialistic  leader.  Now  you'll  hear 
something." 

"This  is  all  bosh,  to  my  mind."  began  Carlson,  while  his 
great,  bristling  beard  shook  with  the  deep,  inward  anger 
of  the  man.  "The  whole  of  our  system  is  at  fault.  What 
we  call  civilization  is  rotten  to  the  core.  There  is  no  use 
trying  to  hide  it  or  cover  it  up?  We  live  in  an  age  of  trusts 
and  combines  and  capitalistic  greed  thpt  means  simply 
death  to  thousands  of  innocent  men,  v\-omen  and  children. 
I  thank  God,  if  there  is  a  God,  which  I  verj'  much  doubt, 
that  I,  for  one,  have  never  dared  to  marry  and  try  to  have 
a  home.  Home!  Talk  of  hell!  Is  there  any  bigger  than 
the  one  this  man  with  his  three  children  has  on  his  hands 
right  this  minute?  And  he's  only  one  out  of  thousands. 
And  yet  this  city,  and  every  other  big  city  in  this  country, 
Ims  its  thousands  of  professed  Christians  who  have  all  the 
luxuries  and  comforts,  and  who  go  to  church  Sundays  and 
sing  their  hymns  about  giving  all  to  Jesus  and  bearing  the 
cross  and  following  Him  all  the  way  and  being  saved!  I 
don't  say  that  there  aren't  some  good  men  and  women 
among  them,  but  let  the  minister  who  has  spoken  to  us 
here  to-night  go  into  any  one  of  a  dozen  aristocratic 
churches  I  could  name  and  propose  to  the  members  to  take 
any  such  pledge  as  the  one  lie's  proposed  here  to-night,  and 
see  how  quick  the  people  would  laugh  at  him  for  a  fool  or 


266  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

a  crank  or  a  fanatic.  Oh  no!  That's  not  the  remedy.  That 
can't  ever  amount  to  anything.  TVe've  got  to  have  a  new 
start  in  the  v^aj  of  goTernment.  The  T\'hol8  thing  needs 
reconstructing.  I  don't  look  for  any  reform  worth  anything 
to  come  out  of  the  churches.  They  are  not  with  the  people. 
They  are  with  the  aristocrats,  with  the  men  of  money.  The 
trusts  and  monopolies  have  their  greatest  men  in  the 
churches.  The  ministers  as  a  class  are  their  slaves.  What 
we  need  is  a  system  that  shall  start  from  the  common  basis 
of  socialism  founded  on  the  rights  of  the  common  people—" 

Carlson  had  evidently  forgotten  all  about  the  three- 
minute  rule  and  was  launching  himself  into  a  regular  ora- 
tion that  meant,  in  his  usual  surroundings,  before  his  usual 
audience,  an  hour  at  least,  when  the  man  just  behind  him 
pulled  him  down  unceremoniously  and  rose.  Carlsen  was 
angry  at  first  and  threatened  a  little  disturbance,  but  the 
Bishop  reminded  him  of  the  rule  and  he  subsided,  with  sev- 
eral mutterings  in  his  beard,  while  the  next  speaker  began 
with  a  very  strong  eulogy  on  the  value  of  the  single  tax 
as  a  genuine  remedy  for  all  the  social  ills.  He  was  followed 
by  a  man  who  made  a  bitter  attack  on  the  churches  and 
ministers,  and  declared  that  the  two  great  obstacles  in  the 
Avay  of  all  true  reform  were  tlie  courts  and  the  eccle- 
siastical machines. 

When  he  sat  down,  a  man  who  bore  every  mark  of 
being  a  street  laborer  sprang  to  his  feet  and  poured  out  a 
perfect  torrent  of  abuse  against  the  corporations,  especially 
the  railroads.  The  minute  his  time  was  up,  a  big,  brawny 
fellow,  who  said  he  was  a  metal  worker  by  trade,  claimed 
the  floor  and  declared  that  the  remedy  for  the  social  wrongs 
was  Trades  Unionism.  This,  he  said,  would  bring  on  the 
millennium  for  labor,  more  than  anything  else.    The  next 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  367 

man  endeavored  to  give  some  reasons  why  so  many  persons 
were  out  of  employment  and  condemned  inventions  as 
worlds  of  the  devil.  He  was  loudly  applauded  by  the  rest 
of  the  company. 

Finally  the  Bishop  called  time  on  the  "free  for  all,"  and 
asked  Rachel  to  sing. 

Rachel  Winslow  had  grown  into  a  very  strong,  health- 
ful, humble  Christian,  during  that  wonderful  year  in  Ray- 
mond dating  from  the  Sunday  when  she  first  took  the 
pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do,  and  her  great  talent  of  song 
had  been  fully  consecrated  to  the  service  of  her  Master. 
When  she  began  to  sing  to-night  at  this  Settlement  meet- 
ing, she  had  never  prayed  more  deeply  for  results  to  come 
from  her  voice— the  voice  which  she  now  regarded  as  tlie 
Master's,  to  be  used  for  Him. 

Certainly  her  prayer  was  being  answered  as  she  sang. 
She  haS  chosen  the  words, 

"Hark  I     The  voice  of  Jesus  calling. 
Follow  ine,  follow  me!" 

Again  Henry  Maxwell,  sitting  there,  was  reminded  of 
his  first  night  at  the  Rectangle,  in  the  tent,  when  Rachel 
sang  the  people  into  quiet.  The  effect  was  the  same  here. 
What  wonderful  power  a  good  voice  consecrated  to  the 
Master's  service  always  is  I  Rachel's  great  natural  ability 
would  have  made  her  one  of  the  foremost  opera  singers  of 
the  age.  Surely  this  audience  had  never  before  heard  such 
melody.  How  could  it?  The  men  who  had  drifted  in  from 
the  street  sat  entranced  by  a  voice  which,  "back  in  the 
world,"  never  could  be  heard  by  the  common  people, 
because  the  owner  of  it  would  charge  two  or  three  dollars 


368  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

for  the  privilege.  The  song  poured  out  tlirough  the  hali  as 
free  and  glad  as  if  it  were  a  foretaste  of  salvation  itself. 
Carlsen,  with  his  gTeat  black-bearded  face,  absorbed  the 
music  with  the  deep  love  of  it  peculiar  to  his  nationality, 
and  a  tear  ran  over  his  cheek  and  glistened  in  his  beard 
as  his  face  softened  and  became  almost  noble  in  its  aspect. 
The  man  out  of  work  who  had  wanted  to  knovr  what  Jesus 
would  do  in  his  place,  sat  with  grimy  hand  on  the  back  of 
the  bench  in  front  of  him,with  his  mouth  partly  open,  his 
great  tragedy  for  the  moment  forgotten.  The  song,  while 
it  lasted,  was  food  and  work  and  warmth  and  union  with 
his  wife  and  babies  once  more.  The  man  who  had  spoken 
so  fiercely  against  the  churches  and  the  ministers,  sat  with 
his  head  erect  at  first,  with  a  look  of  stolid  resistance,  as  if 
he  stubbornly  resented  the  introduction  into  the  exercises 
of  anything  that  was  even  remotely  connected  with  the 
church  or  its  form  of  worship.  But  gradually  he  yielded 
to  the  power  that  was  swaying  the  hearts  of  all  the  persons 
in  that  room,  and  a  look  of  sad  thoughtfulness  crept  over 
his  face. 

The  Bishop  said  to  himself  that  night,  while  Rachel  was 
singing,  that  if  the  world  of  sinful,  diseased,  depraved,  lost 
hum.anity  could  only  have  the  gospel  preached  to  it  by  conse- 
crated prima  donnas  and  professional  tenors  and  altos  and 
bassos,  he  believed  it  would  hasten  the  coming  of  the  King- 
dom quicker  than  any  other  one  force.  "Why,  Oh,  why," 
he  cried  in  his  heart,  as  he  listened,  "has  the  world's  great 
treasure  in  song  been  so  often  held  far  from  the  poor, 
because  the  personal  possessor  of  voice  or  fingers  capa- 
ble of  stirring  divinest  melody  has  so  often  regarded 
the  gift  as  something  with  which  to  make  money!  Sliail 
tbtEfre  be  no  martylrs  among  the  gifted  ones  of  the  earth? 


"WHAT   WOULD  .IKSUS   DOV"  269 

Shall  there  be  no  giving  of  this  gront  glfl  ns  well  as  of 
others?" 

And  Henry  Maxwell  again,  as  before,  called  up  that 
other  audience  at  the  Rectangle,  with  increasing  longing 
for  a  larger  spread  of  the  new  discipleship,  What  he  had 
seen  and  heard  at  the  Settlement  bnrned  into  him  deeper 
the  belief  that  the  problem  of  the  city  would  be  solved, 
if  the  Christians  in  it  should  once  follow  Jesus  as  He  gave 
commandment.  But  what  of  this  great  mass  of  humanity, 
neglected  and  sinful,  the  very  kind  of  humanity  the  Savior 
came  to  save,  with  all  its  mistakes  and  narrowness,  its 
wretchedness  and  loss  of  hope,  above  all,  its  unqualified 
bitterness  towards  the  church.  That  was  what  smote 
Henry  Maxwell  deepest.  AVas  the  church  then  so  far  from 
the  Master  that  the  people  no  longer  found  Him  in  the 
church?  Was  it  true  that  the  church  had  lost  its  power 
over  the  very  kind  of  humanity  which  in  the  early  ages 
of  Christianity  it  reached  in  the  greatest  numbers?  How 
much  was  true  in  what  the  Socialist  leader  said  about  the 
uselessness  of  looking  to  the  church  for  reform  or  redemp- 
tion, because  of  the  selfishness  and  seclusion  and  aristoc- 
racy of  its  members? 

He  Was  more  and  more  impressed  with  the  appalling 
fact  that  the  comparatively  few  men  hi  the  Hall,  now  being 
held  quiet  for  a  while  by  Rachel's  voice  represented  thou- 
sands of  others  just  like  them,  to  whom  a  church  and  a 
minister  stood  for  less  than  a  saloon  or  a  beer  garden,  as 
a  source  of  comfort  or  happiness.  Ought  it  to  be  so?  If 
the  church  members  were  all  doing  as  Jesus  would  do, 
could  it  remain  true  that  armies  of  men  would  walk  the 
streets  for  jobs,  and  hundreds  of  them  curse  the  church, 
find  ihousnnds  of  thoiii  find  in  tlie  saloon  their  best  friend? 


270  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

How  far  were  the  Christians  responsible  for  this  human 
problem  that  was  personally  illustrated  right  in  this  Hall 
to-night?  Was  it  true  that  the  great  city  churches  would, 
as  a  rule,  refuse  to  walk  in  Jesus'  steps  so  closely  as  to 
suffer,  actually  suffer  for  His  sake? 

Henry  Maxwell  kept  asking  this  question  even  after 
Rachel  had  finished  singing  and  the  meeting  had  come  to 
an  end,  after  a  social  gathering  which  was  very  informal. 
He  asked  it  while  the  little  company  of  residents,  with  the 
Raymond  visitors,  were  having  a  devotional  service,  as  the 
custom  in  the  Settlement  was.  He  asked  it  during  a  con- 
ference with  the  Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce  which  lasted  until 
one  o'clock.  He  asked  it  as  he  kneeled  again  before  sleep- 
ing, and  poured  out  his  soul  in  his  petition  for  spiritual 
baptism  on  the  church  in  America  such  as  it  had  never 
known.  He  asked  it  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  all 
through  the  day,  as  he  went  over  the  Settlement  district 
and  saw  the  life  of  the  people  so  far  removed  from  the  life 
abundantly.  Would  the  church  members,  would  the  Chris- 
tians, not  only  in  the  churches  of  Chicago  but  throughout 
the  country,  refuse  to  walk  in  His  steps,  if  in  order  to  do 
so  they  must  actually  take  up  a  cross  and  follow  Him? 

This  was  the  one  question  that  continually  demanded 
answer.  He  had  planned  when  he  came  to  the  citj^  to 
return  to  Raymond  and  be  in  his  own  pulpit  on  Sunday. 
But  Friday  morning  he  had  received  at  the  Settlement  a 
call  from  the  pastor  of  one  of  the  largest  churches  in  Chi- 
cago and  had  been  invited  to  fill  the  pulpit  for  both  morn- 
ing and  evening  service. 

At  first  he  hesitated,  but  finally  accepted,  seeing  in  it 
the  hand  of  the  Spirit's  guiding  power.  He  would  test  his 
own  question.    He  would  prove  the  truth  or  falsity  of  the 


"WHAT    WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  271 

charge  made  against  the  church  at  the  Settlement  meet- 
ing. How  far  would  it  go  in  its  self-denial  for  Jesus' 
sake?  How  close  would  it  walk  in  His  steps?  Was  the 
church  willing  to  suffer  for  its  Master? 

Saturday-  night,  he  spent  in  prayer  nearly  the  whole 
night.  There  had  nevtr  been  so  great  a  wrestling  in  his 
soul,  even  during  his  strongest  experiences  in  Ray- 
mond. He  had  in  fact  entered  upon  a  new  experience.  The 
definition  of  his  own  discipleship  was  receiving  an  added 
test  at  this  time,  and  he  was  being  led  into  a  larger  truth 
€t  his  Lord. 

The  great  church  was  filled  to  its  utmost.  Henry  Max- 
well, coming  into  the  pulpit  from  that  all-night  vigil,  felt 
the  pressure  of  a  great  curiosity  on  the  part  of  the  people. 
They  had  heard  of  the  Raymond  movement,  as  all  the 
churches  had,  and  the  recent  action  of  Dr.  Bruce  had  added 
to  the  general  interest  in  the  pledge.  With  this  curiosity 
was  something  deeper,  more  serious.  Mr.Maxwell  felt  that 
also.  And  in  the  knowledge  that  the  Spirit's  presence  was 
his  living  strength,  he  brought  his  message  and  gave  it  to 
the  church  that  day. 

He  had  never  been  what  would  be  called  a  great 
preacher.  He  had  not  the  force  or  the  quality  that  makes 
remarkable  preachers.  But  ever  since  he  had  promised  to 
do  as  Jesus  would  do,  h(?  had  grown  in  a  certain  quality  of 
persuasiveness  that  had  all  the  essentials  of  true  eloquence. 
This  morning  the  people  felt  the  complete  sincerity  and 
humility  of  a  man  who  had  gone  deep  into  the  heart  of  a 
great  truth. 

After  telling  briefly  of  some  results  in  his  own  church, 
in  Raymond,  since  the  pledge  was  taken,  he  went  on  to  ask 
the  question  he  had  been  asking  since  the  Settlement  meet- 


272  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

ing.  He  had  taken  for  his  theme  the  story  of  the  young 
man  who  came  to  Jesus,  asking  what  he  must  do  to  obtain 
eternal  life.  Jesus  had  tested  him:  "Sell  all  that  thou  hast 
and  give  to  the  poor  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in 
heaven,  and  come,  follow  me."  But  the  young  man  was  not 
willing  to  suffer  to  that  extent.  If  following  Jesus  meant 
suffering  in  that  w^ay,  he  was  not  willing.  He  would  like 
to  follow  Jesus,  but  not  if  he  had  to  give  up  so  much. 

"Is  it  true,"  continued  Henry  Maxwell,  and  his  fine, 
thoughtful  face  glowed  with  a  passion  of  appeal  that 
stirred  the  people  as  they  had  seldom  been  stirred,  "is  it 
true  that  the  church  of  to-day,  the  church  that  is  called 
after  Christ's  own  name,  would  refuse  to  follow  Jesus  at 
the  expense  of  suffering,  of  physical  loss,  of  temporary 
gain?  The  statement  was  made,  at  a  large  gathering  in 
the  Settlement  last  week,  by  a  leader  of  w'orkingmen,  that 
it  was  hopeless  to  look  to  the  church  for  any  reform  or 
redemption  of  society.  On  v,'hat  was  that  statement  based? 
Plainly  on  the  assumption  that  the  church  contained,  for 
the  most  part,  men  and  w^omen  who  thought  more  of  their 
own  ease  and  luxury  than  of  the  sufferings  and  needs  and 
sins  of  humanity.  How  far  was  that  true?  Are  the  Chris- 
tians of  America  ready  to  have  their  discipleship  tested? 
How  about  the  men  who  possess  large  wealth?  Are  they 
ready  to  take  that  wealth  and  use  it  as  Jesus  would?  How 
about  the  men  and  women  of  great  talent?  Are  they  ready 
to  consecrate  that  talent  to  humanity  as  Jesus  undoubtedly 
would  do? 

"Is  it  not  true  that  the  call  has  come  in  this  age  for  a 
new  exhibition  of  discipleship,  Christian  discipleship?  You 
v/ho  live  in  this  great,  sinful  city  must  know  that,  better 
than  I  do.    Is  it  possible  you  can  go  your  ways  careless  or 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  273 

thoughtless  of  the  awful  condition  of  men  and  women  and 
children  who  are  dying,  body  and  soul,  for  Christian  help? 
Is  it  not  a  matter  of  concern  to  you  personally  that  the 
saloon  kills  its  thousands  more  surely  than  war?  Is  it  not 
a  matter  of  personal  suffering  in  some  form  for  you,  that 
thousands  of  able-bodied,  willing  men  tramp  the  streets  of 
this  city,  and  all  cities,  crying  for  work,  and  drifting  into 
crime  and  suicide  because  they  cannot  find  it?  Can  you 
say  that  this  is  none  of  your  business?  Let  each  man  look 
after  himself?  Would  it  not  be  true,  think  you,  that  if  every 
Christian  in  America  did  as  Jesus  would  do,  society  itself, 
the  business  world,  yes,  the  veiy  political  system  under 
which  our  commercial  and  governmental  activity  is  carried 
on,  would  be  so  changed  that  human  suffering  would  be 
reduced  to  a  minimum? 

"What  would  be  the  result  if  all  the  church  members 
of  this  city  tried  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do?  It  is  not  possible 
to  say  in  detail  what  the  effect  would  be.  But  it  is  easy  to 
say  and  it  is  true  that,  instantly,  the  human  problem  would 
begin  to  find  an  adequate  answer. 

"What  is  the  test  of  Christian  dlscipleship?  Is  it  not  the 
same  as  in  Christ's  own  life-time?  Have  our  surroundings 
modified  or  changed  the  test?  If  Jesus  were  here  to-day, 
would  He  not  call  some  of  the  members  of  this  very  church 
to  do  just  what  He  commanded  the  young  man,  and  ask 
him  to  give  up  his  wealth  and  literally  follow  Him?  I 
believe  He  would  do  that,  if  He  felt  certain  that  any  church 
member  thought  more  of  his  possessions  than  of  his  Savior. 
The  test  would  be  the  same  to-day  as  then.  I  believe  Jesus 
would  demand,  He  does  demand  now,  as  close  a  following, 
as  much  suflfering,as  great  self-denial,  as  when  He  lived 
in  person  on  the  earth  and  said,  'except  a  man  renounceth 


274  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

all  that  be  hath,  he  cannot  be  My  disciple.'  That  Is,  unless 
be  is  willing  to  do  it  for  My  sake,  he  cannot  be  My  disciple. 

"What  would  be  the  result,  if  in  this  city  every  church 
member  should  begin  to  do  as  Jesus  would  do?  It  is  not 
easy  to  go  into  details  of  the  result.  But  we  all  know  that 
certain  things  would  be  impossible  that  are  now  practiced 
by  church  members.  What  would  Jesus  do  in  the  matter 
of  wealth  ?  How  would  He  spend  it  ?  What  principle  would 
regulate  His  use  of  money?  Would  He  be  likely  to  live  in 
great  luxury  and  spend  ten  times  as  much  on  personal  adorn- 
ment and  entertainment  as  He  spent  to  relieve  the  needs 
of  suffering  hu^nanity?  How  would  Jesus  be  governed  in 
the  making  of  money?  Would  He  take  rentals  from  saloon 
and  other  disreputable  property,  or  even  from  tenement 
property  that  was  so  constructed  that  the  inmates  had  no 
such  thing  as  a  home  and  no  such  possibility  as  privacy  or 
cleanliness? 

''What  would  Jesus  do  about  the  great  army  of  unem- 
ployed and  desperate  who  tramp  the  streets  and  curse  the 
chm'ch,  or  are  indifferent  to  it,  lost  in  the  bitter  struggle 
for  the  bread  that  tastes  bitter  when  it  is  earned,  on 
account  of  the  desperate  conflict  to  get  it.  Would  Jesus 
care  nothing  for  them?  Would  He  go  His  way  in  compara- 
tive ease  and  comfort?  Would  He  say  it  was  none  of  His 
business?  Would  He  excuse  Himself  from  all  responsibility 
to  remove  the  causes  of  such  a  condition? 

"What  would  Jesus  do  in  the  center  of  a  civilization 
that  hurries  so  fast  after  money  that  the  very  girls 
employed  in  great  business  houses  are  not  paid  enough  to 
keep  soul  and  body  together  without  fearful  temptations, 
so  great  that  scores  of  them  fall  and  are  swept  over  the 
great,  boiling  abj^ss;  where  the  demands  of  trade  sacrifice 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  275 

hundreds  of  lads  in  a  business  that  ignores  all  Christian 
duties  towards  them  in  the  Avay  of  education  and  moral 
training  and  personal  affection?  Would  Jesus,  if  He  were 
here  to-day,  as  a  part  of  our  age  and  commercial  industry, 
feel  nothing,  do  nothing,  say  nothing,  in  the  face  of  these 
facts  which  every  business  man  knows? 

"What  would  Jesus  do?  Is  not  that  what  the  disciple 
ought  to  do?  Is  he  not  commanded  to  follow  in  His  steps? 
How  much  is  the  Christianity  of  the  age  suffering  for  Him? 
Is  it  denying  itself  at  the  cost  of  ease,  comfort,  luxury,  ele- 
gance of  living?  What  does  the  age  need,  more  than  per- 
sonal sacrifice?  Does  the  church  do  its  duty  in  following 
Jesus,  when  it  gives  a  little  money  to  establish  missions 
or  relieve  extreme  cases  of  want?  Is  it  any  sacrifice  for  a 
man  who  is  worth  ten  million  dollars  simply  to  give  ten 
thousand  dollars  for  some  benevolent  work?  Is  he  not 
giving  something  that  costs  him  practically  nothing,  so  far 
as  any  personal  pain  or  suffering  goes?  Is  it  true  that  the 
Christian  disciples  to-day  in  most  of  our  churches  are  living 
soft,  easy,  selfish  lives,  very  far  from  any  sacrifice  that  can 
be  called  sacrifice?    Vriiat  would  Jesus  do? 

"It  is  the  personal  element  that  Christian  discipleshlp 
needs  to  emphasize.  'The  gift,  without  the  giver,  is 
bare.'  The  Christianity  that  attempts  to  suffer  by  proxy 
is  not  the  Christianity  of  Christ.  Each  individual  Chris- 
tian, business  man,  citizen,  needs  to  follow  in  His  steps 
along  the  path  of  personal  sacrifice  for  Him.  There  is  not 
a  different  path  to-day  from  that  of  Jesus'  own  times.  It 
is  the  same  path.  The  call  of  this  dying  century  and  of  the 
new  one  soon  to  be,  is  a  call  for  a  new  discipleship,  a  new 
following  of  Jesus,  more  like  the  early,  simple,  apostolic, 
Christianity  when  the  disciples  left  all  and  literally  fol- 


276  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

lowed  the  Master.  Nothing  but  a  diseipleship  of  this  kind 
can  face  the  destructive  selfishness  of  the  age,  with  any 
hope  of  overcoming  it.  There  is  a  great  quantity  of  nomi- 
nal Christianity  to-day.  There  is  need  of  more  of  the  real 
kind.  We  need  a  revival  of  the  Christianity  of  Christ.  We 
have,  unconsciously,  lazily,  selfishly,  formally,  grown  into 
a  diseipleship  that  Jesus  Himself  would  not  acknowledge. 
He  would  say  to  many  of  us,  when  we  cry,  'Lord,  Lord,' 
'I  never  knew  j'ou.'  Are  we  ready  to  take  up  the  cross? 
Is  it  possible  for  thi?j  church  to  sing  with  exact  truth, 

'Je&us,  1  my  croBS  bave  taken, 
All  to  leave  and  follow  thee?' 

If  we  can  sing  that  truly,  then  we  may  claim  diseipleship. 
But  if  our  definition  of  being  a  Christian  is  simply  to  enjoy 
the  privileges  of  worship,  be  generous  at  no  expense  to 
ourselves,  have  a  good,  easy  time  surrounded  by  pleasant 
friends  and  by  comfortable  things,  live  respectably,  and 
at  the  same  time  avoid  the  world's  great  stress  of  sin  and 
trouble  because  it  is  too  much  pain  to  bear  it— if  this  is  our 
definition  of  Christianity,  surely  we  are  a  long  way  from 
following  the  steps  of  Him  who  trod  the  way  with  groans 
and  tears  and  sobs  of  anguish  for  a  lost  humanity,  who 
sweat,  as  it  were,  great  drops  of  blood,  who  cried  out  on  the 
upreared  cross,  'My  God!  My  God!  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me  I' 

"Are  we  ready  to  make  and  live  a  new  diseipleship? 
Are  we  readj^  to  reconsider  our  definition  of  a  Christian? 
What  is  it  to  be  a  Christian?  It  is  to  imitate  Jesus,  It 
is  to  do  as  He  would  do.    It  is  to  walk  in  His  steps." 

When  Henry,  Maxwell  finished  his  sermon,  he  paused 
and  looked  at  the  people  with  a  look  they  never  forgot,  and 


"WHAT   WOULD  JESUS  DOV"  277 

at  the  momeut  did  not  understand.  Crowded  into  that  fash- 
ionable church  that  day,  were  hundreds  of  men  and  women 
who  had  for  years  lived  the  easy,  satisfied  life  of  a  nominal 
Christianity.  A  great  silence  fell  over  the  congregation. 
Through  the  silence,  there  came  to  the  consciousness  of  all 
the  souls  there  present  a  knowledge,  stranger  to  them  now 
for  years,  of  a  Divine  Power.  Every  one  expected  the 
preacher  to  call  for  volunteers  who  would  do  as  Jesus 
would  do.  But  Henry  Maxwell  had  been  led  by  the  Spirit 
to  deliver  his  message  this  time  and  wait  for  results  t<» 
come. 

He  closed  the  service  with  a  tender  prayer  that  liept 
the  Divine  Presence  lingering  very  near  every  hearer,  and 
the  people  slowly  rose  to  go  out. 

Then  followed  a  scene  that  would  have  been  impossible 
if  any  mere  man  had  been  alone  in  his  striving  for  results. 

Men  and  women  in  great  numbers  crowded  around  the 
platform  to  see  Henry  Maxwell  and  to  bring  him  the  prom- 
ise of  their  consecration  to  the  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would 
do.  It  was  a  voluntary,  spontaneous  movement  that  broke 
upon  Maxwell's  soul  with  a  result  he  could  not  measure. 
But  had  he  not  been  praying  for  this  very  thing?  It  was 
an  answer  that  more  than  met  his  desires. 

There  followed  this  movement  a  prayer  service  that  iu 
its  impressions  repeated  the  Raymond  experience.  In  the 
evening,  to  Maxwell's  intense  joy,  the  Endeavor  Society, 
almost  to  a  member,  came  forward,  as  so  many  of  the 
church  members  had  done  in  the  morning,  and  seriously, 
solemnly,  tenderly,  took  the  pledge  to  do  as  Jesus  would 
do.  A  deep  wave  of  spiritual  baptism  broke  over'the  meet- 
ing near  its  close,  that  was  indescribable  in  its  tender, 
joyful,  sympathetic  results. 


278  IN   HIS  STEPS. 

That  was  a  remarkable  day  iu  the  history  of  that 
church,  but  even  more  so  in  the  history  of  Henry  Maxwell. 
He  left  the  meeting  very  late.  He  went  to  his  room  at  the 
Settlement  where  he  was  still  stopping,  and  after  an  hour 
with  the  Bishop  and  Dr.  Bruce  spent  in  a  joj^ful  rehearsal 
of  the  wonderful  events  of  the  day,  he  sat  down  to  think 
over  again,  by  himself,  all  the  experience  he  was  having 
as  a  Christian  disciple. 

He  kneeled  to  pray,  as  he  always  did  now  before  going 
to  sleep,  and  it  was  while  he  was  on  his  knees  this  night 
that  he  had  a  waking  vision  of  what  might  be  in  the  world, 
when  once  the  new  discipleship  had  made  its  way  into  the 
conscience  and  consciousness  of  Christendom.-  He  was 
fully  conscious  of  being  awake,  but  no  less  certainly  did  it 
seem  to  him  that  he  saw  certain  results  with  great  dis- 
tinctness, partly  as  realities  of  the  future,  partly  as  great 
longings  that  they  might  be  realities.  And  this  is  what 
Henry  Maxwell  saw  in  this  waking  vision: 

He  saw  himself,  first,  going  back  to  the  First  Church 
in  Raymond,  living  there  in  a  simpler,  more  self-denying 
fashion  than  he  had  yet  been  willing  to  observe,  because 
he  saw  w^ays  in  w^hich  he  could  help  others  who  w^ere  really 
dependent  on  him  for  help.  He  also  saw,  more  dimly,  that 
the  time  w'ould  come  when  his  position  as  pastor  of  the 
church  would  cause  him  to  suffer  more,  on  account  of  grow- 
ing opposition  to  his  interpretation  of  Jesus  and  His  con- 
duct. But  this  was  vaguely  outlined.  Through  it  all  he 
heard  the  words,  "My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee." 

He  saw  Rachel  Winslow  and  Virginia  Page  going  on 
with  their  work  of  service  at  the  Rectangle  and  reaching 
out  loving  hands  of  helpfulness  far  beyond  the  limits  of 
Raymond.    Rachel,  he  saw  married  to  RoUin  Page,  both 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  279 

fully  eousecrated  to  the  Master's  use,  both  following  in 
His  steps  with  an  eagerness  intensified  and  purified  by  their 
love  for  each  other.  And  RacheVs  voice  sang  on  in  the 
slums  and  darli  places  o€  despair  and  sin,  and  drew  lost 
souls  back  to  God  and  heaven  once  more. 

He  saw  President  Marsh  of  the  coiiege,  using  his  great 
learning  and  his  great  influence  to  purify  the  city,  to  enno- 
ble its  patriotism,  to  inspire  the  young  men  and  women  who 
loved  as  well  as  admired  him  to  live  lives  of  Christian  serv- 
ice, always  teaching  them  that  education  means  great 
responsibility  for  the  wealc  and  the  ignorant. 

He  saw  Alexander  Powers  meeting  with  sore  trials  in 
his  family  life,  with  a  constant  sorrow  in  the  estrangement 
of  wife  and  f*'  ids,  but  still  going  his  way  in  all  honor, 
seeing  and  ,mg  in  all  His  strength  the  Master  whom  he 
had  obeyed  even  unto  loss  of  social  distinction  and  wealth. 

He  saw^  Milton  Wright  the  merchant,  meeting  with 
great  reverses;  thrown  upon  the  future  by  a  combination 
of  circumstances,  with  vast  business  interests  involved  in 
ruin  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  but  coming  out  of  all  his 
reverses  with  clean  Christian  honor,  to  begin  and  worlc  up 
to  a  position  where  he  could  again  be  to  hundreds  of  young 
men  an  example  of  what  Jesus  would  be  in  business. 

He  saw  Edward  Norman,  editor  of  the  "News,"  by 
means  of  the  money  given  by  Virginia,  creating  a  force  in 
journalism  that  in  time  came  to  be  recognized  as  one  of  the 
real  factors  of  the  nation,  to  mold  its  principles  and 
actually  shape  its  policy,  a  daily  illustration  of  the  might 
of  a  Christian  press,  and  the  first  of  a  series  of  such  papers 
begun  and  carried  on  by  other  disciples  who  had  also  taken 
the  pledge. 

He  saw  Jasper  Chase,  who  had  denied  his  Master,  grow- 


280  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

ing  into  a  cold,  cynical,  formal  life,  writing  novels  that 
were  social  successes  but  each  one  with  a  sting  in  it, 
the  reminder  of  his  denial,  the*  bitter  remorse  that,  do  what 
he  would,  no  social  success  could  remove. 

He  saw  Rose  Sterling,  dependent  for  some  years  upon 
her  aunt  and  Felicia,  finally  married  to  a  man  far  older 
than  herself,  accepting  the  burden  of  a  relation  that  had 
no  love  in  it  on  her  part,  because  of  her  desire  to  be  the 
wife  of  a  rich  man  and  enjoy  the  physical  luxuries  that 
were  all  of  life  to  her.  Over  this  life  also  the  vision  cast 
certain  dark  and  awful  shadows,  but  they  were  not  shown 
to  him  in  detail. 

He  saw  Felicia  and  Stephen  Clyde  happily  married, 
living  a  beautiful  life  together,  enthusiastic,  joyful  in  suffer- 
ing, pouring  out  their  great,  strong,  fragrant  service  into 
the  dull,  dark,  terrible  places  of  the  great  city  and  redeem- 
ing souls  through  the  personal  toucli  of  their  iiome  dedi- 
cated to  the  human  homesickness  all  about  them. 

He  saw  Dr.  Bruce  and  the  Bishop  going  on  with  the 
Settlement  work.  He  seemed  to  see  the  great  blazing 
motto  over  the  door  enlarged,  "What  would  Jesus  do?" 
And  the  daily  answer  to  that  question  was  redeeming  the 
city  in  its  greatest  need. 

He  saw  Burns  and  his  companion  and  a  great  company 
of  men  like  them,  redeemed  and  going  in  turn  to  others, 
conquering  their  passions  by  the  divine  grace,  and  proving 
by  their  daily  lives  the  reality  of  the  new  birth,  even  in  the 
lowest  and  most  abandoned. 

And  now  the  vision  was  troubled.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  as  he  kneeled  he  began  to  pray,  and  the  vision  was 
more  of  a  longing  for  a  future  than  a  reality  in  the  future. 
The  church  of  Jesus  in  the  city  and  throughout  the  coun- 


"WHAT  WOULD  JESUS  DO?"  281 

try!  Would  it  follow  Jesus?  Was  the  movement  begun  in 
Raymond  to  spend  itself  in  a  few  churches  like  Nazareth 
Avenue  and  the  one  where  he  had  preached  to-day,  and 
then  die  away  as  a  local  movement,  a  stirring  on  the  sur- 
face, but  not  to  extend  deep  and  far?  Ae  felt  with  agony 
after  the  vision  again.  He  thought  he  saw  the  church  of  Je- 
sus in  America  open  its  heart  to  the  moving  of  the  Spirit  and 
rise  to  the  sacrifice  of  its  ease  and  self-satisfaction,  in  the 
name  of  Jesus.  He  thought  he  saw  the  motto,  "What  would 
Jesus  do?"  inscribed  over  every  church  door,  and  written  on 
every  church  member's  heart.  The  vision  vanished.  It  came 
back  clearer  than  before  and  he  saw  the  Endeavor  Societies 
all  over  the  world, carrying  in  their  great  processions  at  some 
mighty  convention  a  banner  on  which  was  inscribed,  "What 
would  Jesus  do?"  And  he  thought,  in  the  faces  of  the 
young  men  and  women,  he  saw  future  joy  of  suffering, 
loss,  self-denial,  martyrdom.  And  when  this  part  of  the 
vision  slowly  faded,  he  saw  the  figure  of  the  Son  of  God 
beckoning  to  him  and  to  all  the  other  actors  in  his  life 
history.  An  angel  choir  somewhere  was  singing.  There 
was  a  sound  as  of  many  voices  and  a  shout  as  of  a  great 
victory.  And  the  figure  of  Jesus  grew  more  and  more  splen- 
did. He  stood  at  the  end  of  a  long  flight  of  steps.  "Yesl 
Yeo!  O  my  Master,  has  not  the  time  come  for  this  dawn 
of  the  millennium  of  Christian  history?  Oh,  break  upon 
the  Christendom  of  this  age  with  the  light  and  the  truth! 
Help  us  to  follow  Thee  all  the  way!" 

He  rose  at  last  with  the  awe  of  one  who  has  looked  at 
heavenly  things.  He  felt  the  human  forces  and  the  human 
sins  of  the  world  as  never  before.  And  with  a  hope  that 
walks  hand  in  hand  with  faith  and  love,  Henry  Maxwell, 
disciple  of  Jesus,  laid  him  down  to  sleep,  ana  dreamed  of 


282  IN  HIS  STEPS. 

the  regeneration  of  Christendom  and  saw  in  his  dream  a 
church  of  Jesus  "without  spot  or  wrinlile  or  any  such 
thing",  following  Him  all  the  way,  walking  obediently  in 
His  Steps. 

THE  END. 


In  His  Steps,  by  Rev.  C.  M.  Sheldon. 

In  paper  covers  25  cents.     In  cloth  75  cents.     Postpaid. 

THE  ADVANCE  PUBLISHING  CO., 

215  Madison  St.,  Chicago. 


other  Books  by  Chas.  M.  Sheldon. 


Crucifixion  of  Pliilip  Strong:,     - 

Rictiard  Bruce,  Illustrated, 

Robert  Hardy*s  Seven  Days,     - 

The  Twentietli  Door,  Illustrated, 

His  Brotlier*s  Keeper,  Illustrated, 
All  Bound  in  Cloth. 


Sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

THE  ADVANCE  PUBLISHING  CO. 

215  Madison  Street, 

CHICAGO. 


$1.00 

1.50 

.90 

1.50 

1.25 


